


sometimes, the day just ends

by yourlocalheartbreaker



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: "I'm Fine. You're Not Fine You Have A Fever Of 102."/Tummy Rub, A Cooking Lesson/"I Love You More." "Impossible.", A Lazy Day At Home With Jack, An Argument With Jack, Day Five: Kisses, Day Four: Family Drama, Day One: Dad Hotch, Day Seven: Sick Fic, Day Six: Rocky Relationship, Day Three: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Day Two: Whump, F/M, Forgotten Anniversary/A Big Fight, Gen, Held Hostage/Hurt on the Job, M/M, Warnings Are In Individual Chapters, Written For #MoreHotchContent2020, counting kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlocalheartbreaker/pseuds/yourlocalheartbreaker
Summary: all of my fics for the #morehotchcontent2020 event over on tumblr!the titles have nothing to do with the fic, so don't worry about the implications- they're just hotch's most iconic onesplease check the individual chapters for warningsday one: exams are stressing jack out. hotch does his best to relieve it.day two: hotch is held hostage. the team blame themselves.day three: a cooking lesson and a bit of dancing, as well as a revelation to the team.day four: because hotch wasn't there when haley died but jack was.day five: david rossi just really likes kissing aaron hotchnerday six: a missed anniversary leads to a big fight when aaron's girlfriend confesses something terribleday seven: hotch is already unwell, and then he has his first crime scene with the bau
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner & Jack Hotchner, Aaron Hotchner & The BAU Team, Aaron Hotchner/David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 98





	1. i'm not a five foot, hundred pound girl

**Author's Note:**

> day one: dad hotch (a lazy day at home with jack)
> 
> i am on season ten, but am aware of certain events in later seasons which may be poorly referenced because i don’t know the actual context, it’s not very relevant to the plot so just go with it 
> 
> trigger warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

“You’re up early,” Hotch commented, when Jack entered the kitchen at nine in the morning on a Saturday. He wasn’t trying to be annoying, or make his son feel angry, but he was curious. And a little concerned. He wasn’t an idiot. And just because he’d retired, did not mean he’d forgotten how to profile. Or hear. Jack had been stressed recently. And last night, he’d been pacing his room.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Jack said by way of explanation.

Hotch made a non-committal sound. It was one of those moments where he just felt so out of his depth. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, putting his book down.

Jack shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal. I mean compared to the things that you must’ve been subjected to as a child, it’s nothing.”

Hotch winced, remembering how he’d wanted to keep certain aspects of his childhood from Jack, which had worked until Jack started high school and wanted to know why there weren’t any photos of him with his family around. Hotch had wanted to lie, but too much had happened and it wasn’t fair of him to do that. Instead, he’d spoken to Jack’s therapist, who said that as long as he kept it appropriate, it would help Jack learn to open up as well.

“Buddy, you know I never want you to feel like that. My childhood was decades ago. If something is bothering you, then it’s bothering you. And you can talk to me about it. But you don’t have to. I just wanted to know, that’s all.”

“I just- it’s the exams. There’s so many of them and there’s so much content and I feel like I don’t any of it and it’s stressing me out because I saw the kind of qualifications you need to get into the FBI and I don’t want to disappoint you but I just feel like I’m going to fail and then everyone will be mad at me because I’m supposed to be smart, and then I won’t be able to do anything in life and I’ll just be a failure,” Jack said, voice cracking on the last words.

“Oh Jack. You could never disappoint me. Ever. I’m your dad. That love isn’t conditional. It never has been and it never will be. All I want is for you to do your best,” Hotch said, setting his mug down and moving closer to his son. He didn’t extend his arms, not yet sure whether or not Jack wanted comfort.

Jack was like his mother: he never learnt to hide his emotions because he never felt he had to. But Aaron was no longer Agent Hotchner, he was Jack’s dad. And that meant no profiling. And whilst he was aware that there was a difference between actively profiling someone and knowing their tells, sometimes the line blurred. He didn’t want it to blur.

“But what if- what if I do my best and it isn’t good enough?” Jack whispered.

Hotch couldn’t take it. He hugged Jack, just about managing to cradle the back of his head. When had he gotten so tall?

“Buddy. Your best when you’re under pressure and in test conditions is never going to be the same as your best when you’re relaxed. But what you do then will be your best in the moment. And that’s enough. I promise,” Hotch soothed.

Jack let out another muffled sob, and the two of them stood there whilst Jack finally let the stress that had been building inside him for weeks now, out. Hotch let his son cry. He needed this. They both did. Jack needed to know he was good enough, and that nothing was going to change that. Hotch needed to know his son still trusted him. Hotch wasn’t an idiot. The anniversary of hard times was coming up. 

“I’m sorry for ruining your jumper,” Jack mumbled when he pulled away, wiping at his eyes.

Hotch looked down at it. It was well-worn now, as he had realised that wearing jumpers round the house was so much more comfortable than a button-down, and he no longer had any reason to be parading around in a suit, because all he had to do now was be a dad.

“You haven’t ruined it. You’ve added character,” Hotch joked.

Jack laughed, but it sounded forced.

“I meant what I said,” Hotch said, tone serious.

“I know. I just—I don’t know. Needed to hear that.”

“Do you know what else you need?” Hotch asked.

Jack shook his head. “But I bet you’re about tell me, aren’t you?”

Hotch nodded, walking over to the cupboard full of baking things- yes, he had taken up baking after he retired, and no, he wasn’t proud of himself for googling things to do once you’ve retired from the FBI- and pulling out a packet of chocolate chips.

“Don’t give me that look young man, I told you when I bought them that I was going to hide them. You need a break. And I know that you think you can’t take one, but trust me, if you go and do work now, you’re really not going to learn anything.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest.

“Cheat Day,” Hotch said with a grin before Jack could even formulate an argument.

Every month, Hotch and Jack were entitled to two cheat days each. And on those days, they were exempt from doing any cleaning, cooking, homework, whatever tasks needed doing because they needed a break. All they had to do was remember to take their medication and eat. They also had the power to call one for the other if they deemed it necessary. And sometimes, they would do it together.

Jack rolled his eyes, already feeling a little better now he knew he was getting pancakes. “Fine.”

Hotch smiled. “Why don’t you get out of those jeans and into some pyjamas then?”

Jack ran up the stairs to do just that. In truth, he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d put them on in the first place, but studytubers always said that it was better to study in real clothes so you would actually be productive. That was why he’d woken up early; he could cram more.

When he came back into the kitchen, now dressed in that old worn pair of Captain America pyjamas that still fit him and were the comfiest thing he owned, his dad was already plating up the pancakes. He’d put extra syrup, extra whipped cream and an obscene amount of various candies on the plate he pushed towards Jack.

“We’ll eat, and then we’re going to watch one of those comfort films you love. And then we’re going to do something relaxing, have pizza for lunch because Dave sent me this new recipe, then you’re going to take a bath and have a nap because you clearly need sleep. And then for dinner, I’m thinking mac and cheese. From the box but with the extra cheese, the way you like it,” Aaron said with a grin.

Jack smiled at him, a small lump forming in his throat. Oh.

“Thanks dad,” he whispered, not trusting himself to say any more than that.

After they ate their pancakes- Jack ended up finishing Hotch’s, who had claimed that he finally needed to start listening to the doctor- Jack went to the living room to pick his film, whilst Hotch went upstairs to grab the pillows and duvets from their rooms so they could be as cosy as possible.

It was halfway through Anastasia- they had already watched the original versions of Beauty and the Beast, as well as part of Cinderella before he’d changed his mind- when Jack couldn’t take it any longer. He stopped the film and turned to face his dad.

“Is everything okay?” Hotch asked, eyes bleary as he’d accidentally started napping.

“Dad, I love you. That’s not conditional,” Jack said.

“I know that buddy,” Hotch said.

“And you also know that I was the only senior that got dropped off by their parent this year, right?”

Hotch nodded. “People weren’t rude about that, were they?”

“No. You know why? Because you’re my dad. And I love you. So you don’t need to call a cheat day just because you want to spend time with me. You can just ask. I won’t ever say no,” Jack said.

Hotch rapidly blinked away tears. “I didn’t want to make you feel guilty. And I’m supposed to be your parent. That means not dumping my problems on you.”

Jack laughed. “Dad, we don’t- we’re not normal. We don’t have the same relationships as the other families and that’s fine. I like that. I like that I can just throw a book at your head and you’ll read it to me. And I like that you let me take the bus home from my therapy sessions, no matter how much it hurts you. I don’t like seeing you upset, but I appreciate you being honest and teaching me it’s okay to cry. You’re not dumping your problems on me, I’m asking.”

Hotch pushed Jack’s fringe off his face. “When did you get so wise?”

Jack grinned. “I had some pretty good role models. There was Uncle Spence telling me about constellations, there was Uncle Der telling me about dating, Aunt Em and Uncle Dave who told me what Megan Kane said to you- which was actually pretty funny- and let’s not forget Aunt JJ and Aunt Penny just being cool.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I’m joking. I got wise because I had you. I know you feel like you failed, but you haven’t. I wouldn’t be here if you had. You know that. So spill, old man, before I call Aunt Penny and tell her that you’re going to make mac and cheese from box.”

Hotch’s mouth turned downwards. Jack was right. It was morbid, but George Foyet would have killed Jack if he’d found him. There was no doubt about that. “I just- I want to give you your space, and let you grow up and become an adult, but I’m scared that when that happens, you’re going to leave and not come back because you’ll stop looking at me like a hero and realise I destroyed everything good in your life. I mean, I’m doing that right now. You’re stressed about exams and I’m making it worse by rambling about my own stupidity.”

Jack’s suspicions had been correct. “Dad, I stopped viewing you as a hero when you had to have surgery for your scars and almost died. That was the moment I realised you were mortal. The moment I realised you were flawed was when Aunt Jess started ranting about how you handled a situation the wrong way. I’m not leaving any time soon. But when I do, I’ll always come back, because this apartment is my home.”

“You’re so much like your mother. She always knew how to calm me down,” Hotch said.

“It’s a gift. Now, that’s enough emotion. Can we please finish the film and make the pizza? I’m getting hungry.”

Hotch smiled, that soft smile, reserved only for his son, and pressed play. Jack shifted so his head was resting in his dad’s lap. Almost subconsciously, Hotch started running his hand through it, mimicking the motions of years ago, when they were running late and there wasn’t enough time to brush it properly.

They ended up burning the pizza because Hotch claimed he didn’t need his reading glasses but then set the temperature to 475F instead of 450F. Jack found it funny, and when he went upstairs to wash his hands as Hotch answered the door for take-out, he texted Uncle Dave, and got a serious of words his dad would give him the Hotchner Glare for in response.

As they sat on the carpet, some old romcom Haley and Aaron had loved as teenagers on in the background, Jack was grateful that his dad was who he was. Yes, there were still nights where Jack woke up screaming and there were mornings where Hotch would have dark circles under his eyes, shaky hands and an aversion to touch, but there were also moments like these where they were just a father-son duo, eating slices of pizza and laughing at some stupid joke they were telling.

Jack’s friends were all out shopping, watching movies, going on dates, falling in and out of love in the blink of an eye, and being teenagers. Hotch had worried for so long that he’d taken Jack’s ability to be normal and do things like that away.

It was that evening, when he saw the way Jack’s eyes light up at the sight of the boxed macaroni and cheese, not burnt but with extra cheese, that he realised he hadn’t. It had been Jack’s decision to stay in that weekend.

Because there was nowhere else he would rather be.


	2. something you do everything right, everything exactly right and still you feel like you failed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day two: whump (held hostage/hurt on the job)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: torture (choking, forced to choke on water, caning, punching, stabbing), depictions of violence, implied/referenced child abuse, non-consensual removal of clothing, references to the events of george foyet, references to tobias hankel and reid's torture, references to ian doyle and what he did to emily

Hotch had taken one look at the case-file and immediately known it was going to be a bad case. The victims had all been kidnapped and tortured, before being dumped in the local park, stripped down to their underwear as a form of humiliation. A word- always a personality trait- had been carved into their back.

For the BAU, it was pretty standard.

For Hotch, it was like looking at a mirror. All the victims fit the same criteria, which on the one hand he was grateful for because maybe it would mean they would find the damn unsub without any more bodies appearing, but on the other hand made him want to be sick.

The victims had all been the leaders of their respective teams. The first was the manager of a supermarket, the second a senior partner in a law firm, the third a headteacher. He had no idea what the fourth was. He’d read it, but without ever really processing the words.

But their subordinates hated them. Deemed them bullies, narcissists, dickheads, evil bastards. When they’d been informed of the deaths, not a single one had cried. One had laughed. They had all been relieved enough to be considered suspects.

He looked out at the bullpen. JJ was sat with them, sat on the edge of Reid’s desk as she laughed at something Emily- Agent Prentiss, he corrected mentally- was saying. The case had come directly to him, the file lying on his desk as though it was mocking him because the previous day he’d told the team it was likely they’d be spending the weekend at home.

Morgan was watching the scene unfold with a wide smile, yet his eyes darted round the area, always watching over the other members of his team like it was his duty. Not for the first time, Hotch wondered if he should have stepped down permanently. Morgan had done well as Unit Chief. And he wasn’t hated by the team. They didn’t look at Morgan and think of a boring, misogynistic, horrid narcissist. They looked at Morgan and thought of a protector. 

He sighed. Part of him wanted to ask Rossi to inform the team they had a case but that was just being unfair. It was his stupid comment about getting to spend time at home that had undoubtedly landed them in this situation. The least he could do was own it. At the last moment, he decided to read through the casefile one more time. It would give JJ enough time to finish showing them the pictures of Henry at the beach.

When JJ tucked her phone back into her pocket, he stood up. Took a deep breath and exited. Almost immediately, the laughter stopped and they all turned back to their reports. JJ slid off the table and started to head back to her office. Hotch tried to disguise his hurt as indifference and he knew he’d succeeded when Reid swallowed and Morgan looked disappointed. 

It had been five years since Tobias Hankel, and yet nothing had changed. The team still hated him. Cases still ruined their everyday life.

“We have a case. Roundtable in ten,” he said. The rest of the words wouldn’t come. Because if he said more than the bare minimum, he would reveal too much and they would hate him even more than they already did. It was bad enough that he was everything they’d called him, but it would be even worse if they realised just how weak he was.

He went back up to his office to pack things away and send a quick text to Jess and Jack, before he realised that they’d benefit from having Garcia with him. He had always wondered what Garcia really thought of him, but he’d always been too afraid to ask. A part of him liked to think she liked him, but that was impossible.

JJ thought he was a bully, and when he thought of the number of times he’d snapped at Garcia for not being fast enough, he understood. Morgan considered him a drill sergeant, said they weren’t friends, and he was always breaking up their fun, teasing comments. It didn’t matter he was doing it for professionality, that was one of their only reprieves and he was constantly taking it from them. Prentiss accused him of not trusting women as much as men, and there had definitely been times when he’d looked at Garcia and felt the urge to ask where she’d got the information from. Reid told Hankel he deserved to die because he was a narcissist. How many times had he asked Garcia to look at the worst of humanity, knowing she was too good for that?

Garcia never told him what his worst quality was. He’d heard enough by the time it would’ve got to her. Jason had opened his mouth, probably to tell him to stop, but he’d had enough. He wished he hadn’t stopped him. Maybe if he’d known, he could’ve changed and then Gideon would still be with them and Reid would have someone who was actually competent as a father figure.

It was with a heavy heart that he took the elevator down to Garcia’s lair. As he’d passed through the bullpen, he saw the haggard faces of his team, and he wondered, not for the first time, how many more crime scenes they could suffer through before their hands stopped going cold and they lost their humanity.

He knocked on the door, once, slightly hesitant.

“You don’t need to knock Kevin!” Garcia called out.

Hotch swallowed the lump in his throat. Yet another relationship he was ruining. He coughed once before saying it was actually him.

Almost immediately Garcia flung the door open. “Sir! I didn’t realise it was you. What is it?”

“We have a case. And, well, I’d like you to come with us. It’ll be easier,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course! Just give me sixteen minutes to pack my stuff and then I’ll be up, okay?”

He nodded, then the Southern manners kicked in. “Would you like any help?” he asked, slightly hopeful that she’d say yes.

“Oh no, of course not. It’s much simpler if I just do it myself. I know where everything goes and it’s just easier.”

“Right. I’ll err, I’ll see you in a bit then,” he said, trying to not take it personally. Garcia probably wouldn’t let anyone touch her computers or equipment. It wasn’t just him. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t sure he’d survive it. He was about to exit when she called out his name and he turned.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed distant recently. And normally I wouldn’t comment, but I’m worried about you. You know you can talk to us? Any of us. I know the others weren’t  
particularly fond of Haley, but you didn’t have to be a profiler to realise you loved her.”

He started fidgeting, stuffing his hand in his pocket as he brushed his thumb over his fingers.

If Garcia noticed his discomfort, she didn’t comment. “It doesn’t matter that you got a divorce, you still loved each other. Recovering from that is hard. Add in the fact that you’re going back to the same job, and it’s a recipe for disaster. What I’m trying to say is: are you okay, and do you want to talk about it?”

He wanted to say yes. He so desperately wanted to hug Garcia, fall apart in her arms and confess all his fears to her. He wanted to tell her how ever since Hankel, he’d hardly been  
able to look at the team, or how the list of people he’d failed to save- Elle, Jason, Kate Joyner, countless innocent victims, Megan Kane, Haley- seemed to be growing with every breath. He longed to finally tell someone who horrifying it was when Foyet was in his apartment, how he could hardly look in the mirror without gagging, how he had blinked because he was human. He wanted to say that there were nights where he couldn’t comfort Jack because how dare he touch his son with the same hands that had killed a man? 

But he couldn’t. The only value he held as a member of the team was being stoic. Unshaken. The one that dealt with the politics, played bad cop, spoke to Strauss and the higher-ups, dealt with unruly lead detectives without flinching. If any of them knew just how choked up he got every time Strauss asked to see a report, how every case that involved him playing the role ended with him sat in the shower, water numbing his body as tears rolled down his cheeks, they’d cast him out. 

And he would have nothing.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just a little tired. Jack was keeping me up. He’s excited about starting school soon.”

Jack had kept him up, but not because he was excited about starting school. Because he was scared he was going to come home and daddy wouldn’t be there.

“Wow. I remember when he was just a little baby coming in to visit. Back when the Reid effect was still a thing.”

Hotch faked a laugh, ignoring the bile that was rising in his throat. He didn’t want to think about that. How the team had done nothing more than be polite, all stood a respectful distance away, as though he was poison. Or how just minutes after he said goodbye to Jack and Haley- who was still happy and in love- they were called out on a family annihilator case.

“Yeah. The time has gone by so fast. I’ll let you pack up,” he said, needing to get away from the lights and brightness.

“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry,” Garcia said, as though she had only just remembered why he’d come down.

“You have nothing to apologise for Penelope,” he said, before closing the door behind him.

Forty minutes later and they were in the air.

JJ was on the phone to the local P.D, convincing them that releasing any sort of information to the public, especially the name of a suspect, would not be beneficial to the investigation. Hotch wanted to intervene because it wasn’t fair that she had to be fielding their phone calls when she should be resting, but he didn’t want to overstep so he settled for keeping one eye on her and the other on the casefiles.

When they landed, JJ said that the local PD had wanted them all to head straight to the precinct, so they piled into the government SUVs. Hotch tried to not let it sting when Morgan sighed before getting into the passenger seat. Once upon a time, he would’ve said they were friends. But now he knew better. Morgan had only wanted him around because he could lead the team. But after Foyet, he’d proven that he couldn’t even do that, and that Morgan was clearly the better leader.

Why he was still on the team was a mystery to him.

“Miss Jareau, hello. I’m Sheriff Finkelstein, we spoke on the phone?” the sheriff greeted.

“It’s Agent Jareau, Detective,” Hotch corrected, voice betrayed his tiredness.

JJ looked over in surprise. She could have sworn she saw him drift off. 

Hotch wouldn’t meet her eyes. He corrected people when they called Dr Reid agent. Of course he would do the same for the rest of them, regardless of what their opinions on him were.

“Of course, my apologies, Agent Jareau. We’re very grateful to have you here, we’re completely in over our heads. Our lead detective just took early retirement as his wife had a baby and he wants to be at home with the two of them- an admirable decision- but it just means that we’re now overwhelmed and still looking for a new lead,” Finklestein explained, leading them to one of the conference rooms. He held the door open for the ladies, who all gave him small smiles.

Hotch tried to nod. Yet another person who’d managed to do the one thing he had failed at. If he had taken the transfer, or left when Jack was born, then Haley would still be alive.  
There would be a tan line on his ring finger from where his wedding ring sat. 

“Do you have any clues who it could be? It’s a very specific MO and victimology, which should help us narrow things down,” Morgan asked, always eager to get straight into things.

Sheriff Finkelstein sighed. “Unfortunately not. There’s no DNA anywhere. All of the team members have been questioned, and although they all hated their respective bosses,  
there’s no indication that any of them would’ve done it.”

“We’d like to see the recordings of their interviews,” Rossi said.

“And if I could have a map of the area to start creating the geographical profile, that’d be great,” Reid added.

“Whatever you need,” Finkelstein said, leaving.

Hotch left with him to gather some of the extra information they needed. The team- bar Morgan and Rossi, who had left to go to M.E’s office, were skimming through the files created on each of the members and their victims.

“I’m not saying they deserved it, but these men were disgusting,” Emily commented.

“Prentiss,” Hotch warned, but he knew she was right.

She stared at him, daring him to go further. He dropped his gaze and walked over to Reid. “How’s that geographical profile coming along?”

“Well it’s interesting. See, their workplaces are all the ones in red. The places in blue are the last locations they were seen in- which is another common factor actually because they were all in restaurants, cafes and takeaways which is actually similar to a previous case we solved so I may look into that to see if there are any links- and I’m doing that rambling thing again aren’t I?”

“You’re okay,” Hotch said, not wanting to cut Reid off when they didn’t really have a time crunch.

“No I’ll just get to the point, we all have more important things to be doing. Look at the area where the victims work and then where the unsub takes them. They’re all within five minutes of each other. Our unsub probably work somewhere where they can watch their targets from, otherwise how else would they be able to find them?”

“We need to deliver the profile,” Hotch said.

Two days after they delivered the profile, and the unsub still hadn’t been found. Garcia’s tech skills had given them a suspect, but he’d been out of the country during the last murder. Since the development with the geographical profile, they hadn’t been able to find anything. Hotch had felt like someone was watching him since they landed, but he hadn’t said anything, not wanting to distract the team.

Morale was low. Patience was running out and tempers were going to be lost if there wasn’t a break in the case. Officers had started joking with each other in the macabre way only people that dealt with these things on a regular basis could that they were lucky none of them were evil as the station was extremely close to the other workplaces, bur  
Finkelstein had shut them down almost immediately. 

Hotch had cried in the shower that night. Reid had wanted to say something, but ultimately refrained because it was Hotch and Hotch didn’t blink; he’d be okay.

So things weren’t going great, and the team were exhausted. They needed a pick-me-up.

Hotch picked up his jacket. “I’m going to get us food. Does anyone have any specific requests, or is donuts and coffee okay?”

“You’re going to go?” Prentiss asked, a little confused. Hotch had gone yesterday. It was supposed to be Reid’s turn. 

“Yeah. I am. Reid’s busy, and it’s not fair to ask him to go and it’s unfair to get someone else to go because they’ve all be running themselves into the ground. And before you say it, I’m not saying that you haven’t, because you have,” Hotch said, his own temper also fading. He was trying so hard to be good, to not treat anyone the way his father had but the lack of progress, combined with the way Emily seemed to get off on undermining him, even now, after everything that had happened, was beginning to wear on him.

“Hotch? Are you okay?” JJ asked, entering with another stack of files. As it turned out, the town was full of white males in their mid-to-late 20s that worked jobs where the person in charge had a bit of a dodgy history, and they were still trying to narrow it down.

“I’m fine. Any requests for dinner? I’m probably going to go to that café because Reid will want coffee as soon as he gets back from the workplace with Morgan, and Rossi likes their croissants but I don’t mind making another stop if you want me to,” he said.

JJ smiled at how well her boss- well, family member- knew their team, and also at how willing he was to go out of his way for all of them. But her smile faded when she took in his appearance. The circles under his eyes were getting worse and his suit seemed to be looser. She knew Reid was having trouble sleeping as the fifth anniversary of his abduction approached, and she knew Emily was still struggling with her place on the team in a world without Doyle, but their trauma was not Hotch’s responsibility. She just wished he would stop blaming himself.

“Surprise me with something from the café. But are you sure you should be the one going?” She didn’t tell him it was because he looked exhausted; she liked her job. 

But she had her back turned to him. She didn’t see him clench his fist, rubbing his thumb over the nail of his index finger in a self-soothing motion. She didn’t see the tears form in his eyes. 

“I’ll be fine JJ. Tell the others I should be back in thirty minutes,” he said, voice cracking slightly as he fled.

“Is something going on with him?” Prentiss asked.

JJ shrugged. “Jack mentioned him being unwell right after you came back, but I thought he was doing better now.”

Emily watched the space where he’d been previously stood. “I just wish he would talk to us. He has to know we love him and wouldn’t think any less of him for struggling.”  
JJ nodded in agreement.

Hotch was driving, unable to focus on the road properly. He knew his team thought they were being subtle with the way they hated him, but he was a profiler. He knew JJ was only questioning whether or not he should go because he was just like all the other victims and it had been a week since the last body was found, meaning there was bound to be another abduction soon.

It wasn’t going to be him. He wasn’t deserving of even that attention.

“Oh hello again. I was wondering if I was going to see you again,” the barista said when he entered.

Hotch noted that there was nobody else there. “I’m so sorry, is it really close to closing time? I saw that the light was on and I just assumed it was okay.”

He laughed. Hotch shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure he liked it. 

“We’re still open, don’t worry about it. What can I get for you?”

“It’s another long order,” Hotch warned. The barista just shrugged, used to it. When Hotch was done, he took a brownie out and warmed it up.

“This is on the house because you look like you need it and your order will take a bit of time,” he said, sliding it across the counter.

Hotch stopped observing the artwork. “I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes you can,” the barista said, his tone so much like JJ’s when she was mother-henning them all that Hotch silently took a bite. It was a good brownie. He took a few more bites, wincing when his head started to feel fuzzy.

“Do you like it?” the barista asked.

“It’s really good. But my head- I have- my head feels, not right,” he whispered, vision starting to blur as well.

“It’s not supposed to,” the barista responded, jovial tone gone.

The world went black.

The first thing he noticed when he came round was that he couldn’t move his arms. Or his legs. He struggled, unable to see what had happened to him as his eyes were taking  
forever to adjust to the darkness, but there was no movement to be had.

He was tied to a chair. He struggled even more, but his bonds held.

“You’re awake.”

“You,” Hotch whispered. “It was you the whole time.”

“Yep. And my name is Jonathan. You would know that if you had just bothered to read my nametag,” he said.

Hotch scanned the room, searching for anything that would act as a weapon. There was nothing. He tried to calm his racing heart and think logically but he couldn’t. The last time he’d been this vulnerable was under George Foyet. George Foyet who had destroyed all feeling in the lower part of his stomach, who had killed Haley, who had made damn well sure Aaron would never be able to look at himself without seeing the victory on Foyet’s face right before his eyes fluttered shut from the blood loss.

“I’m sorry for forgetting,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.

Jonathan slapped him across the face. Hotch recoiled as much as he could, not making a sound. It was always worse when you made a sound.

“Stop lying to me. I know who you are. I know how you people work. You think that if you convince me that it was all just an honest mistake, then I’ll forgive you and let you go running back to your team. Well I won’t and nothing you say will make me change my mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Hotch whispered. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Jonathan scoffed, slapping Hotch again. Both his cheeks were red now. “You’re all the same. You do one small thing for your team, and you think it will make up for the lifetime of pain you caused them. Well it won’t.”

He turned. Hotch tried to see what he was picking up, but he couldn’t. Before he even realised what was happening, pain blossomed in his stomach. Above him, Jonathan bought the cane down again, and again, and again.

Tears were streaming down his face now. “Please, stop. Please, I’ll do anything, just stop with the cane.” He hated begging. He hadn’t begged since he was a child. He hadn’t flinched when George Foyet fired a gun at him. But he wasn’t that man anymore. He was tired now. More tired and more broken that he’d ever been before.

Jonathan laughed. “Okay. I’ll stop. But I’m going to release you from the chair, and you’re going to raise your arms high enough for your hands to touch that chain on the ceiling. If you fail, I’ll cane you till you’re curled into a ball, begging for mercy.”

Aaron was half-delirious now, but he managed to follow the instructions given.

When Jonathan ran the cold metal of his knife, the same knife he’d used with all the other victims, down his cheek and across his chest, Aaron flinched. Minutely, but he flinched.

Jonathan smirked. “Normally I killed them quickly. I made them die quickly because they didn’t deserve to live. But you, you I want to have fun with.” He cut down the centre of Hotch’s shirt with one clean cut. Aaron closed his eyes, unable to look at the scars.

“My, my, someone must really have hated you,” Jonathan laughed.

Hotch didn’t respond. Jonathan pressed the metal to the scar over his chest. Hotch jerked at the coldness, straining his arms even more. 

“You’re a bad man Aaron Hotchner. I’ve been watching you since you landed. You’re very bad. Do you want to know why you’re bad? You’re a bully. I saw the way you shouted at your technical analyst over the phone because she wasn’t fast enough.”

Hotch hadn’t meant to shout. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to remember it.

“Oh are you ashamed now? You don’t get to be ashamed. Open your eyes.”

Hotch shook his head.

Jonathan wrapped one hand around Hotch’s throat and pushed down. Hotch opened his eyes, panicked as he tried to inhale. He relaxed his hold then.

“Good boy. You shouted at her. And then you undermined the blonde one by taking over her interrogation. And the other one by interrupting her conversation with the officer.  
Sexist pig.”

The plan had always been for him to take over. The officer had been making Prentiss uncomfortable with his flirting. Hotch tried to say that, but Jonathan just laughed, then punched him in the stomach. Claimed those were just lies they told him to protect themselves so they kept their jobs.

“You tried to control their every move. You wouldn’t let Mr Strong do the right thing and come look for me. Drill sergeant. You cut off the baby because you needed to speak, acted like you were better than him. Like you were better than all of them.”

“I’m not a narcissist,” Hotch protested.

Jonathan dropped the knife, opting to punch him in the stomach again. Hotch let out a groan. “That’s what they all say. It’s been half an hour. They’ll be expecting you back now. I wonder what will happen when you don’t come back. Will they look for you? I think they will. Not because they love you, but because they’ll be afraid. What if you’re the one to survive? What if you escape?”

“They won’t come,” Hotch said.

Jonathan, who had gone back over to the table, turned. “What did you say?”

“They won’t come,” Hotch repeated.

Jonathan stormed over, holding a bat. Before Hotch could prepare himself, he was hitting him with it. In the knees, across the back of his thighs, everywhere that would cause the most pain. Hotch didn’t want to know what the crack he’d heard when that bat had hit his ribs was.  
Jonathan liked the bat. When he heard the crack, he grinned. And then he Hotch over the head. For the second time that day, the world went black.

“He should be here by now,” Reid said, pacing up and down the conference room. “It’s been fifty-seven minutes. The journey should have taken an average of thirty minutes, forty with traffic, but it’s now after eleven when there’s virtually no traffic on the road.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Reid. There was probably some cute barista he got stuck talking to. You know how Hotch is. Never knows when people are flirting with him, and then when he does realise, he gets stuck in an awkward conversation,” Morgan said, but it was all an act. He knew there wouldn’t be a cute barista. But for the sake of Reid, he had to stay strong.

“Look Aaron wouldn’t want us to worry. In twenty minutes, we’ll go back to the hotel. And if he’s not here tomorrow, then we’ll start to investigate okay?” Dave said.

The others nodded, all feeling uneasy, but having the utmost faith in their leader.

Their leader that was still unconscious, Jonathan having moved him to the floor. The back of his head was coated with blood. He almost looked like Haley. But Haley had looked peaceful in her coffin, face void of any expression. Aaron was in pain, despite not being awake.

Jonathan didn’t try and force him to wake up. Aaron Hotchner was going to be his masterpiece.

“Is Agent Hotchner not with you?” Finkelstein asked once they got to the precinct.

They all turned to each other. Dave immediately dialled his cell. 

“Voicemail,” he said.

Emily turned away, not wanting to think about the last time his phone had gone to voicemail. She still couldn’t get the image of him, so weak that he couldn’t even sit up without assistance, his face so defeated as he said goodbye to the one good thing in his life, out of her mind. It haunted her nightmares more than Ian Doyle did.

“We need to find him,” Morgan said.

“I’ll have Garcia track his phone,” JJ said.

She tracked his phone to the coffee shop. There was nobody there. No signs of a struggle. Nobody outside had seen anything strange or suspicious.

When Morgan and Rossi returned, faces grave, Reid excused himself. When he returned, his eyes were red. JJ hugged him, words not enough to convey how sorry she was for everything that had happened between them. Emily watched, biting her nails. Hotch had put everything on the line for her multiple times. He didn’t get to go missing like this.

Jonathan was bored of watching Aaron sleep. He kicked him in the stomach, grinning when he let out a soft groan of pain, but managed to open his eyes.

“Morning sunshine,” he greeted.

Aaron tried to flinch away, but found his legs and arms were bound. His head was pounding, his ribs ached, his stomach was bruising from where Jonathan had kicked him and there were angry welts from where the cane had struck.

“You’re a bastard,” Hotch spat, trying not to panic when blood splattered onto his clothes.

“You give me the sweetest compliments, I’m starting to wonder if you really are like the rest of my victims.”

Hotch tried to glare up at him.

Jonathan laughed. “And then you do things like that, and I remember that you’re all the same. You know, I wanted to have a conversation about what you said earlier, but now I think I’ll save that for tomorrow. There’s a few things I want to do before then.”

Hotch had choked on water before. It wasn’t pleasant. But having it forced down his throat was worse. He couldn’t keep swallowing it, and most of it ended up on his shirt. That angered Jonathan. It led to more pain. More torture. Hotch couldn’t feel anything though. He didn’t think that was a good thing. A part of him was holding out hope that the team would find him, but with every passing moment, it seemed to fade slightly.

Why should the team look for him? He’s nothing. He would die for them, because they were his team and they deserved the world. But he was not the world. He was just one broken, old man and they could do better. They could do so, so much better than a drill sergeant, sexist, narcissistic bully.  
There were no windows where he was being held. But at some point, Jonathan forced him to eat. And at some point later than that, he told Hotch to get some rest as the next day was going to be big.

Hotch closed his eyes, but he did not sleep.

Nor did any member of the BAU. A whole day of searching and there were still no clues that would lead them to Hotch. Nobody had been reported missing either, which meant either nobody cared enough about the person that had been kidnapped or the unsub was developing a new pattern. Either way, it wasn’t looking good.

Rossi forced them all to get some sleep. He told himself that if they got Aaron back safely, he would make sure that man knew just how much he was loved by all of them. He would finally tell Aaron how he had always viewed him as the son he’d lost, and how he had never once regretted returning.

Morgan knew his relationship with Hotch would never be perfect, but at the end of the day, they were a family. He would spend the rest of his life convincing Hotch that he deserved all the happiness in the world if he needed to, as soon as he’d lectured him about being an idiot.

Garcia was already planning what she was going to make for him. She remembered when she had first started in the BAU, and Hotch had been the only person to treat her like an actual employee. They would eat lunch together because neither of them really had any friends within the unit. Morgan and Reid were still trying to adjust to her, and Gideon had always loved Reid more than he loved Hotch, which had made her sad.

Reid couldn’t lose another father. He lay awake, thinking of stories that he could recommend for Jack. He wanted to be in his own bed, where he could look at the constellations on his ceiling. Hotch had somehow found out about his fear of the dark, but instead of mocking him, he said he’d understood. A day later, he found glow in the dark stars in his bag with a note from Hotch saying he wanted to see a picture of the constellations he made.

Reid had returned the favour after Foyet.

JJ held Emily and they both hoped that he- the man that had already lost so much and struggled through it all for the sake of their band of misfit profilers- would come home safely.

“Rise and shine Aaron,” Jonathan said, throwing a bucket of water over Hotch, who immediately jerked awake as he started to shiver.

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

“You’ll see. But first, I need to make you a little bit more… presentable, shall we say?”

Hotch knew better than to hope that would mean a change of clothes. Jonathan removed the rope around his hands, but only to slide Aaron’s shirt off his shoulders. He pushed down on the bruises, only stopping when Hotch gasped. 

“They’re going to be distraught,” he commented, punching Hotch in the face.

His eyes immediately started watering. Jonathan punched him again. Hotch recoiled, feeling the blood drip from his nose. He was dead weight now, but they had been right in assuming that their unsub was incredibly strong. He pulled Aaron into the chair before tying him up, bloodied and beaten and bruised and broken.

Hotch saw the camera.

And he suddenly understood what Jonathan meant.

“No,” he shouted, voice hoarse.

But it was too late.

“Hello Agent Hotchner’s team. I apologise for not knowing your first names, but Aaron only ever used your surnames. Maybe he wanted to detach himself from you all. Let’s see. Ah, the whole team is there! I don’t actually know who you all are, but that’s no worry. I bet you’re trying to work out where he is. It’s not going to work. You should watch the show instead. I bet you really want to see your fearless leader.”

Jonathan stepped back to reveal Hotch.

Morgan had to put his hand on the screen to stop Garcia from closing it. Reid whimpered, JJ shouted, Rossi cursed loudly. Finkelstein grabbed a whole bunch of officers and told them to do whatever it took to find that man.

“Now, Agent Hotchner talks in his sleep. Did you know that? And he’s said some quite interesting things. But first, we’re going to unpack something he said to me on our first day together. Do you remember what that thing was, Aaron?”

Aaron looked up at him, dazed. “No,” he whispered.

“You told me, they weren’t going to come and get you. I killed four people. All of them laughed and told me their colleagues, or their friends, or their families would find them. You didn’t. Why? Tell me. Tell them. They’re all watching.”

Hotch closed his eyes, needing to ground himself. When he opened them, tears were pooling in them, threatening to spill. “They already failed once. They didn’t- we had a case. But they never found me. I didn’t answer my phone, but they didn’t come looking until it was too late to save anyone. They failed to save me once. Why would they try now?”

Garcia was crying. She was trying to find him, but the unsub was right. It was impossible. They’d already dispatched officers to the man’s work and home addresses, but they all knew it was just a formality. They weren’t going to find anything.

“He’s right. We didn’t find him. We should have gone the moment his phone went to voicemail,” Emily said.

“That’s in the past,” Rossi said. “We need to focus on now. Where is he, now? How are we going to save him this time?”

“He’ll send us a message. Some sort of code. He has to,” Reid said, intently watching the screen.

Jonathan looked at Hotch for a few long moments. And then he took the knife he was holding and he cut one deep line from Hotch’s knee to his ankle. Hotch begged for mercy the whole time, but it never came.

“How tragic. Did you ever wonder why they didn’t try?”

“I’m not worth saving,” Hotch whispered.

That caused Jonathan to pause. “What?”

“I’m not worth saving. I’m a narcissist. A bully. Drill sergeant. I have trust issues, I don’t trust women as much as men and they don’t want to be my friend,” Hotch said.

Rossi frowned. “Kid, what’s the message? I don’t get it.”

Reid was shaking. “I don’t- I called him a narcissist when Hankel told me to choose someone to die but I didn’t mean it. I didn’t, I said it because I knew he would understand. He never puts himself above the team. But when I said that it gave away my location. There’s nothing with what he just said. Nothing. I don’t even know where the other things came from.”

Prentiss pressed her hand to her mouth. “He genuinely believes that. He’s not lying. I know his tell. He’s not doing it. He’s telling his version of the truth.”

Rossi turned. “What do you mean he genuinely believes that?”

All three of them swallowed, unable to form a response.

“When Reid called Hotch a narcissist and then quoted the Bible, Hotch went off. He told everyone to say what his worst quality was. And in the moment Morgan called him a drill sergeant. JJ said he was a bully. Em said he didn’t trust women as much as men. He cut them off after that and it was never addressed. I told- when we got back to Quantico, I told him he didn’t wear casual clothes enough and he- he smiled,” Garcia explained.

Rossi had never been so angry at his family. “Why would you say that? You know what he’s like. You know how personally he takes things. It doesn’t matter that it was just in the moment, he needed to hear it from all of you that you didn’t mean it.”

Prentiss lunged forward. “Aaron,” she shouted. When Hotch turned slightly to face the camera, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Aaron, it’s Emily. I know you’re not sexist. I know that you trust me just as much as anyone else on the team. I promise. And Morgan loves you too. JJ doesn’t think you’re a bully. We love you, but we need you to help us. Please.”

Jonathan turned to face the camera too. “Stop ruining all the fun, Emily.” 

Emily flinched. Jonathan said her name like it was something dirty, but Aaron had only ever said it like it was something to be cherished.

When Jonathan slapped Hotch, Reid closed his eyes. 

“What do you think Aaron? Do you think she’s correct? Are you worthy of their love? Or are you exactly like the other victims, maybe even worse?”

Hotch shook his head. “I don’t know. Please, I just, I don’t know.”

Jonathan picked up the cane. Hotch curled in on himself as much as he could. For everyone else, it was like watching Hankel torture Reid all over again. When the cane made contact with Hotch’s stomach, the sound he let out made the tears in Rossi’s eyes fall.

“I think I’ll let you all struggle for a few hours before the grand finale. But, I am nothing if not generous. Aaron, is there anything you want to say to them?”

He looked directly at the camera. Not even Morgan could look into his eyes, so full of pain and anguish. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry for everything. I’m- I never meant for any of you to become so damaged and I am so- I will spend every last minute making up for the pain I caused you, but please, just, please forgive me. Forgive me. Please.”

Jonathan ended it all. There was no way of tracing them.

Reid repeated the words to himself. He needed to find the clue. He needed to work out what the message was. He refused to believe there wasn’t one. Morgan and Rossi slipped into their respective leadership roles, commanding everyone and barking orders. Garcia’s fingers were like lightning, she was finding everything she could on Jonathan. JJ dealt with the media, who wanted to know exactly what was going on. Prentiss flitted between the various groups, offering support. It was weird. Coming back had felt like coming home, but then there were moments like these where she wasn’t sure she’d ever been part of the team.

Hotch was confused. He knew Emily’s tell. She couldn’t hide it from him. He’d been searching for it as she spoke, but it wasn’t there. Which would imply she was telling the truth. But that wasn’t possible. He couldn’t let himself believe it was possible. Only, there was no other logical discussion. Maybe they loved him. Maybe they cared.

“What are you?” Jonathan hissed.

“Their friend,” Aaron whispered, momentarily forgetting where he was. 

Jonathan kicked his bare foot. Aaron winced.

“No, you aren’t,” Jonathan said. “You’re a narcissist. You’re a bully. And a drill sergeant, and a sexist prick. I’m assuming- by the looks on their faces- the blonde with glasses and the old man never said anything against you. But I think I know what they would say. You’re rude. And you’re a failure. So what are you?”

“A narcissist,” Hotch replied. But he knew that wasn’t the truth. They were going to find him. They were going to save him, somehow, because that was what their family did.  
Dave saved him by offering him the spot. He saved Penelope from a life of crime. Penelope saved Emily from doubting herself too much. Emily saved Jennifer from carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Jennifer saved Spencer from thinking he wasn’t worth loving. Spencer saved Derek from getting too cynical. Derek saved Dave from getting too cocky. And the cycle continued.

Reid was pacing, wringing his hands, still mouthing the words to him. Everyone else had stopped because there was nothing left to do. 

Without warning, Reid turned and punched the wall.

“Spence!” JJ shouted.

Reid stared at his hand, where blood was now covering his knuckles. Shaking, he fell to his knees, sobbing. Hotch would know what to do. Hotch would take his hand and gently wrap it before talking to him about whatever it was that was going on. He would help him sort through the information overwhelming him.

But Hotch wasn’t there. And it was all his fault.

JJ and Morgan ran over to him. Reid wanted to push them away but found himself powerless to resist their coddling.

“Guys,” Garcia said, answering the call.

She let out a gasp. Hotch’s stomach was worse. There were more cuts on his leg. His face was covered in bruises. But there was something else that hadn’t been there before. A defiant, hopeful glint in his eyes. Like he knew something else now.

“Hello again,” Jonathan greeted.

Garcia immediately started trying to trace the call, not even hesitating to try thousands of other methods when it failed.

Reid pushed Morgan and JJ away, taking the seat next to Garcia to try and find the hidden message.

“I’ve trained Aaron very well,” Jonathan commented. He was holding a gun. Hotch’s gun. Hotch’s back-up gun he’d kept holstered against his ankle ever since Adrian Bale had left him defenceless.

Under the table, Reid fiddled.

“What are you?” Jonathan asked Hotch.

“A narcissist,” Hotch replied, but there was something different about the way he said it when compared to earlier. Reid leant forward, determined to work it out.

“What are you?” he asked again, now pointing the gun at his head. Reid felt bile rise in his throat. It must have been like that for everyone else, watching him with Hankel.

“A bully.”

“And?”

“A drill sergeant.”

“He doesn’t believe what he’s saying,” Reid shouted, then covered his mouth, just in case Jonathan heard. But he was too busy taunting Hotch with the negative things that had been said about him.

“What?” Rossi asked.

“Look at his body language. He doesn’t believe it anymore. Emily convinced him. We just need to work out where he is. If he knows we love him, he won’t do anything stupid.”

Garcia started typing even more furiously.

“Tell them again what you are. Let them savour the moment. Let them always remember this as the moment where Aaron Hotchner finally admitted how dreadful he was.”

“I’ve got a location!” Garcia whispered. Everyone looked at each other, then nodded. Finkelstein and his team would arrest Jonathan and get Hotch out. They would follow as soon as the call had ended.

“I’m a narcissist. A bully. A drill sergeant. A sexist prick. A failure. And I’m rude.”

“I suppose you get the smallest amount of credit for admitting it. But it’s not enough to say it. I want you to prove it. Choose one of them to die.”

Reid dug his nails into the fabric of his trousers.

Hotch’s eyes widened, and for the first time his confidence wavered. “What?”

“You heard me. If you’re truly all of these things, choose one to die. Choose one of those team members that hate you so much to die by your own gun.”

“Come on Hotch. Give us that message that tells us how to get you out safely,” Reid muttered to himself.

Hotch wasn’t answering.

“Wasn’t Agent Reid in a similar situation to this? And didn’t he say that he chose Aaron Hotchner? That must have hurt.”

“It’s Doctor,” Hotch responded, voice weak, the adrenaline waring off as he lost more blood and as his previous injuries went untreated.

“Oh god,” JJ said, the first to realise his mistake.

Hotch’s eyes widened.

Jonathan smirked. “Oh dear. Have you been lying to me? Are you not actually these things?”

“Finkelstein is three minutes away,” Rossi updated.

“I am!” Hotch exclaimed. His voice was hoarse, his eyes glazed over and unfocused.

“Then choose.”

“No.”

“My patience grows thin Aaron. Choose.”

“Two minutes,” Rossi said.

“Hotch please,” Reid pleaded. JJ rubbed his shoulder, just as tense.

“I can’t,” Hotch said, pain starting to overwhelm him as he tried too hard to think of a solution.

“Do it,” Jonathan said, fingers fiddling with the trigger.

“I choose myself,” Hotch said.

“No,” Reid whispered. “There has to be a message somewhere in there. He said: it’s doctor, but before that he said what and after that he said no and- there’s no message. Rossi there’s no message. What are we supposed to do?”

“Finkelstein is a minute away. Hotch will keep him talking. And then we’ll get him back. I promise.”

“Why? Why do you choose yourself, when your team hate you?” Jonathan was angry and holding a gun. A dangerous combination at the best of times. 

But Hotch had no weapon. 

No vest.

Restrained and already weakened by his injuries.

“Because they don’t,” Hotch said.

“Yes they do,” Jonathan said through gritted teeth.

“They just need our signal to go in,” Rossi said.

“I can’t make that call,” Morgan confessed. 

Rossi looked at him. “We can’t afford to wait.”

“No, they don’t. Your team did though, didn’t they? And then you lost your job for all the bad things you did and ended up being the victim of a person that was exactly the same as you had been. Aren’t I right? You’re not exactly hard to profile, I’ve just been waiting for the right moment.”

“How fucking dare you-” Jonathan started, then sighed. “I want you to tell me. Tell me why it should be you and not one of them.”

Rossi turned away. “Now.”

“Because they are my family. I love them unconditionally. And they love me back. And when you love your family, you do everything you can to keep them safe.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“They’re your family? Who love you?”

Aaron used the last of his strength to look up into his captor’s eyes. “And I love them.”

Jonathan hmmed.

The gunshot that rang out was nothing compared to Reid’s cry of horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes detective finkelstein is a reference to dharma and greg. i thought it would be ironic  
> :)


	3. how am i a whore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day three: tooth rotting fluff (a cooking lesson/ "i love you more." "impossible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not my finest work, but i tried. and it was something new... so yeah

When David Rossi woke up on a sunny Friday morning, Hotch wasn’t in bed. He sighed, assuming that meant his partner had already left for work, but hadn’t wanted to disrupt him. One of these days, he was going to forcefully prevent Aaron from leaving before eight.

But when he exited the bathroom to get dressed, Aaron was perched on the edge, a tray next to him. 

“Hi Dave,” he greeted shyly.

Dave smiled. He was the only one that ever got to see Aaron like this: messy hair, Harvard sweatshirt and jogging bottoms, feet bare and wide grin on his face.

“Good morning my darling,” Dave replied. After he discovered that his partner was an absolute sucker for cute nicknames, he started finding any and all excuse to use them.

Aaron blushed, the same way he always did when he was the centre of Dave’s attention. It never failed to make Dave’s heart melt. As he went over to kiss his partner, he took stock of what was on the tray. Two mugs of coffee. A plate of pancakes for each of them. Aaron’s were covered in syrup and marshmallows, his own just a thin dusting of icing sugar and some berries.

“Well, whatever did I do to deserve this treatment?” Dave asked.

Aaron started fiddling with the bedcovers, not quite meeting his partner’s eyes.

Dave pressed two fingers to his chin and tilted his face upwards. He smirked at the slight exhale Aaron released. “Tell me.”

“Well, you know how the team are coming over tonight? For the cooking lesson?”

Dave nodded. Cooking lessons had become a monthly tradition within the BAU. He liked to pretend it was a massive inconvenience to him and his life, but actually it was one of the things he looked forward to the most. Not only was it a chance for him to get his family together and help keep them alive by feeding them actual food (because Aaron, hotpockets aren’t real food), and show off his own culinary skills, it was also an opportunity to watch aforementioned profiler in his kitchen. And whilst Aaron was careful to never betray too much knowledge of his kitchen, it was still nice to watch him move around with ease.

It was domestic.

“Yes, I am aware of that. Why? Did something happen?” Dave asked, careful to keep his voice gentle.

“No. It’s just- I want to tell them. Or at least make it obvious,” Aaron blurted out.

Dave stared at him. “Are you sure? I know I like to show off the beautiful things in my life, but if you aren’t ready, then we don’t need to rush.”

Aaron shook his head. “Wait, no, I am ready. And maybe… maybe I want you to show me off? Just a little bit? Not too much. Just enough to make Strauss a little bit jealous. Like a really small amount.”

Dave’s jaw dropped. “You little minx. Who knew the stoic and uptight Aaron Hotchner wanted to turn up to work all marked up because he knew of the short fling between his boss and his partner? Imagine the field day Garcia would have with that information.”

In response, Aaron pushed Dave away slightly, careful to not spill any off the coffee. “Shut up. I hate you.”

“You love me,” Dave sang as he slid off the bed to go and get dressed for the day.

“Why is completely beyond me, but yes, yes I do,” Hotch said with a sigh, as he himself also started to tame his unruly hair and change out of his pyjamas into the suit that Rossi handed him with a smirk, because he knew how good Aaron would look in it.

And maybe it had something to do with the fact that when they both went to pick up Jack and the other parents would stare at him, Dave would be able to link their pinkies and Aaron would give him that small, subtle smile reserved only for him.

“I’m so excited for tonight! What are we making?” Garcia asked, as soon as Rossi had taken his seat beside her in their morning briefing.

“That’s for me to know and for you to discover later,” Rossi teased.

“No, that isn’t fair! The others can just profile the answer out of you. I’m not like that. Please tell me,” she pleaded.

Rossi shook his head, smiling when she pouted. 

Hotch entered a moment later, and Rossi was careful to school his features into a look of neutrality. It would definitely raise suspicions to be smiling when Hotch was talking about Strauss coming to observe the way they worked when based in Quantico.

7pm was fast approaching, and Rossi was beginning to wonder what exactly Hotch was doing. He wasn’t worried that he’d passed out or anything like that, but it wasn’t like him to take so long getting ready. If an event was casual, the most he’d do would be to change into a polo shirt and jeans. Which took a maximum of ten minutes if Dave wasn’t in the room.

Hotch had been getting ready for a good forty minutes now. In that time, Rossi had wiped down the kitchen, repositioned the photo of him, Aaron and Jack at the zoo (it had been kindly taken by Jessica) so that it wasn’t hidden, and set up the dinner table.

When Aaron came down, Rossi didn’t immediately turn.

“I was beginning to worry about you. If you don’t want to go through with this, you don’t have to,” he said, careful to keep his tone light but his words serious.

“Could you turn around before you make assumptions?” Aaron said.

Dave turned.

Aaron was wearing his shirt. There was no way it could be mistaken for his own, because Aaron would never wear purple, despite Dave constantly saying it enhanced his beauty- because every colour looked stunning on him. And it was a little bigger on him than it was on Dave. 

“I’m now very tempted to call this cooking lesson off,” he commented.

Aaron blushed, but smiled nonetheless. “Please don’t do that. I was actually looking forward to you making pesto pasta.”

Dave wrapped his arms around Hotch’s waist, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “You look stunning, my darling rose. Absolutely stunning.”

Hotch snorted. “Darling rose? Really?”

“I can and will start calling you Hotpocket if you insult another one of my nicknames,” Dave threatened.

“I love your nicknames for me. And you. I love you,” Aaron said.

“I love you as well darling. Now, any moment now Penelope is going to arrive, so prepare yourself.”

He was right. A few moments later, the doorbell rang to reveal their technical analyst with a cheesecake. As Dave answered the door, she didn’t see Hotch till she entered the   
kitchen, where he was sat, casually looking over the recipe nobody else was allowed to see.

“Well hello sir! That shirt looks much better on you than it ever did on Rossi- no offence,” she said.

Hotch visibly relaxed, the tension in his shoulders bleeding off of him. “Thank you Pen,” he said. “I like your butterfly clip.”

She grinned. He gave her a small smile.

The others noticed Hotch’s attire, the ease with which he moved round Dave’s kitchen. The photo on his coffee table also indicated a family, as did the drawings pinned to the fridge with magnets. But nobody commented. They knew Hotch. They knew the only reason he did this was because he wanted them to know, not because he wanted a congratulations.

As always, they didn’t all cook. After the first time, they’d arrived at the conclusion that Spencer, Emily and Penelope should not be trusted with any sort of cooking utensil, and so the three of them stood to the side, watching and assisting.

JJ’s would go home to Will and Henry, who were both always eager to try out her new dishes. 

Derek’s would be the only one actually consumed on the day, because he was one of the only competent cooks. Well, Dave called him competent. Which meant he was actually a wonderful example of how to boil spaghetti properly- because yes, Spencer had set the smoke alarm off by burning boiling water. How, Dave had no idea. Aaron was helping Dave this time, and theirs would go in the fridge for Jessica and Jack.

When the day was over, and everyone was leaving, Hotch seemed hesitant to let them go.

Garcia realised first, and hugged him tightly, She whispered something that Rossi didn’t hear, but he could only assume what had happened, based on her smirk and the slight rosiness of Hotch’s cheeks. JJ kissed him on the cheek, said that he couldn’t blame this one on gas, before grabbing her coat and leaving. Morgan patted him on the shoulder, a silent conversation between the two leaders. Dave almost felt like he was intruding on a private moment. Emily just winked at the two of them before leaving. Spencer rocked back and forth on his heels for a few moments before also hugging his unit chief. 

“I’m just- you’re the first parent that taught me what it means to actually love someone, and I’m glad that you’re happy and in love because you deserve it,” he said.  
Hotch found himself cradling Reid’s head, the same way he often did to Jack. “Thanks Spence,” he said, voice a little rough.

Reid pulled away, hastily waving goodbye to Dave before he left.

Aaron let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you glad they know?” Dave asked, hugging him from behind.

Aaron nodded. “They’re our family. I feel like now, there are no more secrets. And I can relax.”

“Will you dance with me before you do that?” Dave blurted out. Truthfully, he’d been thinking of dancing with Aaron for a while now, just so he could hold him close and feel his heartbeat steadily against his own.

“I- of course. But I haven’t danced since- in a while. So,” he said.

“That’s okay. Let me lead you,” Dave said, moving Aaron’s arms so they were positioned correctly. There was no music, aside from the occasional sighs that left his mouth, and the slightly repressed gasp of pain that came from Aaron stepping on his toes.

“I love you,” Aaron whispered, when they finally stopped moving.

“I love you more,” Dave said, feeling very much like a teenager.

“Impossible,” Aaron said, mock-offended.

“Whatever you say, Hotpocket,” Dave teased.

Aaron grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at him. 

They ended up falling asleep on the floor, surrounded by all of the fancy cushions Dave had spent precious hours positioning just perfectly.

But it was worth it for the smile that greeted him the next morning, when Aaron realised exactly what they’d done last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note how this is the shortest prompt fill? yeah, i'm sure you can now understand why  
> happy hotch owns my heart


	4. there are many ways for sons to defeat their fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day four: family drama (an argument with jack)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, mentions to minor character death, implied/referenced panic attacks

It wasn’t often that Hotch received calls from Jack’s school. Most of the time, it was him phoning them to say that someone else would be collecting him. He’d forgotten once. That had led to the very awkward situation of an unsuspecting Will being let to a classroom and questioned by his own colleagues and questioned about his intentions with Jack. Whilst Will had been fine with it, and had been glad that the school were so rigorous with their checks, Hotch had never quite recovered from the embarrassment.

So no, the school hardly ever phoned Hotch.

Until they did. 

Jack had punched someone and was suspended, and they needed him to come and pick him up.

Hotch had been there within the hour, unwilling to stop and tell the team what had happened. He knew they wouldn’t ask too many questions and trust him to do the right thing.   
He just wished he could trust himself to do the right thing.

“He won’t say anything about what happened,” the receptionist warned when he signed in. “But the principal still wants to speak to you.”

Hotch nodded, and entered the office. Jack was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s still with the nurse. The other boy punched him back before we managed to separate them,” she said.

When he looked surprised, she smiled. “I may not be a profiler, Mr Hotchner, but I’ve seen that look on your face more times than I can count. Jack isn’t usually like this, so there won’t be any sort of mark on his permanent record. We do have to suspend him though. And I would appreciate it if you could get him to open up about his outburst.”

“Of course. I’ll do my best. And thank you for being so understanding about it all,” Hotch said.

“Jack’s a good child. And you’re a good parent. Don’t forget that.”

Aaron gave her an awkward smile, before leaving. 

Jack was slouched in one of the chairs, his feet crossed at the ankle as he tapped one shoe against the other. 

“Hey Jack. Let’s go home, shall we?” Hotch said, determined to keep his voice neutral.

Jack shrugged, but stood, avoiding his dad’s gaze as he walked out the doors with his head down and hands stuffed in his pockets. Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to tell his son was seething. He just needed to be a father.

They drove him in silent. Hotch wanted to give Jack a chance to calm down and collect himself before they had the conversation about his actions.

But Jack still hadn’t spoken a single word when he’d unlocked the door to the apartment.

“Buddy. You know I will love you, no matter what. So I’m not mad at you. I just want to understand. Why did you punch that other person?”

“I was angry,” Jack said. It wasn’t the whole truth. But it was something.

Hotch closed his eyes. He understood how Jack felt. Hell, he’d been exactly like that once. Young and angry at everything and everyone, with the only release being the rush that came with the pain of hurting something- someone- else. His own father had dealt with that by shipping him off to boarding school, away from everyone he cared about.

“Why were you angry?” Hotch asked.

“Can’t you just yell at me, then take my phone away so we can be done with this? You’re not my fucking therapist,” Jack snapped.

“I won’t yell at you. You know that. And I’m not trying to be your therapist, I’m trying to be your father. Why were you so angry? Just tell me and we can work out the solution.”

“No we can’t,” Jack said.

Hotch sighed. He had forgotten what it was like to be a teenager, when everything was so final, so black and white. But he had to try and understand. He had to. If he didn’t, then he was no better than his own father. The one person he’d sworn he wouldn’t be like. Ever.

“Why?”

“He said it was my fault Mom died. And he’s right. I didn’t save her.”

“Jack.” Aaron had no words. No smart quotes or gentle pieces of advice. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say when his own son blamed himself for the death of his mother, when he had only been a child, and it had been Hotch’s fault the whole time?

“Don’t tell me you understand. Because you weren’t there. You weren’t in the house when George Foyet made Mom feel safe, and you weren’t there when he called me his Junior G-Man, and you- you weren’t there okay? The last time I hugged Mom, I didn’t even realise it was the last time. I thought you were going to save her. But you didn’t. You failed and now-” Jack stopped himself.

“Say it,” Hotch said. “You need to say it if you’re ever going to feel better.”

“Now I wish it was you that had died. I wish he’d killed you and not her because then at least I wouldn’t even have anyone to miss.”

Hotch couldn’t say anything. His heart was beating quickly- far too quickly- and for one morbid moment he wondered if he was about to die, the same way his father had: heart   
attack at forty-seven. But the tremble of his hands, now clenched into fists, and why were they clenched into fists, made him realise it was something else.

Something Jack was never supposed to see.

He ran from the room, his tie an ever tightening noose around his neck as he struggled to breathe. As soon as he was in the bathroom, door firmly closed behind him, he let himself fall apart. The tears came quickly, easily, but still he muffled the sounds of his sobs from his son. He didn’t need to see him like this.

Even once his breathing had calmed, the redness of his eyes remained. He had stopped trying to stand, instead leaning against the cold surface of the bathtub, resting his head on the ledge. He didn’t know what to say to Jack. Most parents would shout at their children for speaking like that. But Hotch couldn’t. Even the thought of shouting at his son made his blood run cold. And he couldn’t shout at Jack for saying something that was true. For voicing what everyone- himself included- had been thinking ever since the funeral.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even hear Jack enter.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That wasn’t- I didn’t mean that,” his son whispered, sitting beside his father. He tried to not be upset when Hotch placed his hands in his lap, not touching him.

“You’re entitled to think that Jack,” Hotch whispered. He was failing all over again. The first rule of parenting was to not burden your children. And here Jack was, telling him it   
would all be okay, like he was the child.

“But I don’t. I don’t know why I said that. I don’t wish it was you that died. It’s just- I feel so fucking angry, all the time and that scares me. I don’t know why I’m angry and I don’t want to be angry anymore, but I can’t help it and what if- what if one day, I do more than just punch someone?”

Hotch turned to his son. He looked into eyes that were the only piece of Haley he had left. With the smallest amount of hesitation, he embraced his son. And it was like the dam finally broke as Jack started crying against his shoulder, right there, on the bathroom tiles.

“You’re entitled to be angry. It’s a normal part of life. And the fact that you’re so worried about hurting someone shows that you won’t do it. You’re a good person Jack. You stick up for people. You smile at strangers. You love in the same way Haley did: proudly, without ever apologising. You’re her son. You could never be evil.”

“I’m your son too,” Jack whispered.

“Yeah. You are. Look, you’re still suspended, but I’ll phone the principal tomorrow and explain. And maybe I can get your session moved? You could talk this out with a   
professional?”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t move it. I’d rather speak to you first. You’re my dad. And nothing’s ever going to change that. I love you.”

“I love you too buddy.”

It was going to take time for Jack to come to terms with everything that happened. It was going to take time for Hotch to stop blaming himself, and for thinking that he was the one that should have died that day. But that wasn’t the problem for that moment.

In that moment, they were just a father and son, sat on the bathroom floor, content with the knowledge that the other wasn’t going to leave them. And that was enough.


	5. sit down and shut up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day five: kisses (counting kisses. one party counts the kisses throughout the day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for someone who literally wrote a ya romance novel- it's on wattpad, my username is inkstainsmyhand hehe- this is really... not what you'd expect.  
> also i did write this on friday and i wanted to publish it but ao3 just wasn't working for some reason

David Rossi was a proud man. He was proud of his job, of the people he’d saved and the criminals he had put away. He was proud of how the Behavioural Analysis Unit, which so many people had scoffed at when it was first founded, had flourished. He was proud of the kids in the unit for continuing to brave their jobs and be unapologetically human.

But most of all, he was proud of the man he loved. He remembered when Aaron Hotchner had first joined the unit, nervous but bubbly, with hair that fell across his forehead and got in his eyes. They’d both been married then. The job had taken that away from both of them.

Which is how they found each other all over again. And now they were happy. Dave had his own way of expressing that. To other people, it may have seemed extreme, but Dave was Italian. It was what he did. And besides, Aaron wasn’t complaining so he had no reason to stop.

one

When one of you was a parent, and the other was an ex-marine, you got used to waking up with the sun. But where Dave actually enjoyed mornings, Aaron liked to bury his head in the pillow for as long as was humanly possible.

“Morning sweetness,” Dave said, when Aaron’s eyes fluttered open.

Aaron groaned. “It’s too early for this crap.”

Dave tutted. “Don’t let Jack hear you say that.”

The look Aaron gave him would have bought unsubs to their knees. But Dave was not an unsub. He was Aaron’s partner. And he knew exactly how to make that man smile.

Before Aaron could roll over, Dave extended his hand, giving Aaron plenty of time to understand what he was about to do. When Aaron didn’t tense, Dave gently caressed his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Aaron’s eyes closed at the contact, some of the tension he’d been carrying released.

“I’ll make us breakfast,” Dave said.

Aaron smiled, eyes still closed.

two

“I’ll make the coffee,” Aaron offered, entering the kitchen in one of Dave’s old t-shirts and his own jogging bottoms. His hair was still an untamed mess, just the way Dave loved it. It was always lovely at the end of the day to watch as Agent Hotchner became Aaron, but the best part was how he’d take the gel out and allow his hair to become all scruffy again.

“That’d be lovely. But that’s all you’re doing okay? As soon as you’ve done that, go and sit,” he said.

Aaron nodded, and for once in his life, did as he was told.

When Dave bought the plates into the dining room, Aaron was smiling down at his phone. Good. He wasn’t checking his work email.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Jack’s school uploaded some of the pictures from their camping trip. He looks happy,” Hotch said, tilting the phone so Dave could see.

“Good kid,” Dave said. When Aaron tried to take his plate, he tutted.

Aaron rolled his eyes, but stood up nonetheless. Dave kissed his cheek this time, before setting the plate down in front of him, delighting in the slight flush that appeared where he’d kissed him.

three

“We’re going out,” Dave announced, entering Hotch’s office without knocking.

Hotch looked up from his file. “Dave.”

“Aaron.”

“I can’t,” Hotch said. “I have all of this paperwork, and if I stop then it’ll just build even more and then I’ll have to stay later which will impact everything else, so don’t Aaron me. Get one of the others to go with you.”

Rossi knew Hotch wasn’t annoyed at him, he was just agitated by everything he was supposed to be doing. He flicked through a few of the files.

“First of all, these aren’t even yours, they’re the teams. So really, they should be in the bullpen. Second of all, these-” he held up another few “-are technically mine. Third, I can and will Aaron you whenever I want because I don’t want a member of the team to go with me. I want you.”

Aaron sighed, then stood up. Dave smiled and extended his arm. Out of habit, the other man glanced out the window of his office, just to make sure the team were all okay before taking the arm being offered to him as he allowed himself to be escorted out of his office. And hey, if Derek used that moment to grab a few extra files for Reid, well Hotch didn’t have to know.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Aaron said, twenty minutes later, as they were sat in the park eating ice-cream.

“It wasn’t exactly hard to love you Aaron. You’re a good man. Kind. Passionate. Handsome. I mean, what is there not to like?”

Aaron smiled, that awkward one he got whenever someone complimented him as he turned away slightly. Dave shifted so the space between them was significantly reduced and kissed Hotch’s shoulder, no longer covered by the blazer he’d convinced him to shed for the sake of comfort.

He saw Hotch mouth something to himself, but he couldn’t tell what.

It didn’t matter though. He’d made Aaron get some fresh air and forced him to relax for a few minutes. That was classed as a win in anyone’s book.

four

Dinner in the Hotchner-Rossi household was always interesting. Aaron had never been a particularly gifted cook, but after Haley’s passing, he started making more of an effort because unfortunately, Jack could not survive on chicken nuggets and boxed macaroni.

Dave had been more than willing to aid the Hotchner’s in their cooking journey. Some days he’d helped Aaron cook, other days he’d taught both of them a new recipe. And on some particularly difficult days, he had cooked something simple and light, just to keep them both going.

Now, it was a combined effort. Aaron usually did the preparations, as that was more set in stone. There were only so many ways one could crush garlic and most recipes defined how things were supposed to be cut up. It was regimented. Repetitive. Most of the prep for the dishes they made together was simple. A mind-numbing task that helped him get rid of the stress from the day.

Rossi would do the actually cooking because that was where things would get a bit more abstract. Aaron would often worry too much that it wasn’t going to be completely perfect, or that it wouldn’t be exactly what the recipe said, whereas Dave was much more willing to eyeball it all.

Normally, Dave would just watch as Aaron moved round his kitchen with ease, chopping up vegetables and getting the saucepans out. Hotch didn’t understand why Dave would want to watch him do such basic, boring tasks. Dave said that was the entire reason: he liked seeing Aaron Hotchner being domestic. It made his heart warm.

Today however, he chose to invade his personal space. He uttered a soft greeting as he entered, not wanting to spook him and gently rubbed his shoulders in a lightly massaging gesture.

“Hi,” Aaron whispered.

Dave pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, smiling when Aaron relaxed. Deciding to be a bit more forward, he slowly started kissing the area not covered by his shirt, delighting in the breathless sigh Aaron released as he kissed the area where his shirt collar would not cover it.

“We’re going to end up in the E.R if you keep doing that,” Aaron warned.

Almost immediately, Dave pulled away, smirking when the Aaron Hotchner actually whined.

“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

He sauntered away after that.

five

“It’s quiet without Jack,” Dave said.

Aaron’s grip on his fork tightened minutely.

Dave cringed. “I’m sorry. I forgot how it must have felt then. Not knowing when you were next going to see him.”

Hotch shook his head. “It’s fine. You’re right. It is quiet.”

They had pretty much finished eating. Aaron was missing his son again, so he hadn’t eaten most of what was on his plate. Dave had planned for that, so the meal was more filling than usual. And it would last in the fridge for a few days. Jack was coming home in two days, which meant it would finish and nothing would be wasted.

“Why don’t we rectify that then?” Dave said, holding his hand out.

Aaron frowned.

“Dance with me. Just for five minutes. I promise you’ll feel so much better.”

Aaron let himself be pulled into the living room, not even hesitating to leave Dave lead. The trust he placed in him never failed to amaze him. He just knew that if wishes did come true, his only one would be that Aaron Hotchner never stopped looking at him with that adoration in his eyes.

When the second song came to an end, he placed his own hands over Aaron’s, then bought them to his lips and kissed them, feeling very much like a prince meeting his princess for the first time.

“My liege,” he joked.

Aaron grinned.

six

It was getting late, and so they had decided to head up to bed. Dave was doing a rough plan for his next novel- on pen and paper as that was the only proper way to do the first draft- and Aaron was reading one of those cliché romance novels. Dave thought it was hilarious that he liked to read about country girls falling in love with city boys, but Aaron said he liked to read about nice things, especially since their entire lives revolved around criminals existing.

When Aaron yawned again, Dave decided it was time to admit defeat. Neither of them liked to be the one to admit they were too tired to stay awake- probably because it reminded them that they were both getting older- but Dave was willing to do whatever it took to make Aaron establish healthy sleeping patterns.

Including swallowing his pride.

“I think I’m going to go to sleep now,” he said.

Aaron nodded, bookmarking his page. “That seems like a good idea.”

Dave slid off the bed and switched the light off. The door was closed. The windows were locked with the curtains drawn. When Dave switched the main light off, Aaron flicked the lamp on. He couldn’t sleep in complete darkness. He hadn’t for a while.

Aaron had been terrified that Dave would laugh the first time they slept in the same bed and he’d needed the light on. Obviously, he hadn’t. Instead, he had flicked both lamps on (they were on a case, nothing more needed to be said) and held him through the night.

Now, Aaron didn’t need any encouragement to let Dave cuddle him.

But before sleep could take them, Dave kissed him, once, on the lips.

“Six,” Aaron said, voice already quiet and sleepy.

“What was that?”

“You kissed me six times today. That has to be above the average.”

“What can I say? You’re above the average.”

The last thing Dave heard before he fell asleep was Aaron’s laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm very excited for techincally today's because it's not fluffy at all. stay tuned!


	6. i think, deep down, we're all capable of terrible things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day six: rocky relationship (kinda missed anniversary/a big fight)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, cheating, references to minor character death, mentions of george foyet  
> because i got tired of hotch always being the one screwing up his relationship and wanted him to be the one that got hurt for once

Everyone viewed Aaron Hotchner as cold and emotionless. Someone who was constantly stoic and unattached, who saw the horrors that came with the BAU and didn’t even flinch. But what most of them didn’t realise was that the man they saw at work and in the field wasn’t Aaron. That man was Hotch. He knew how to compartmentalise, how to pretend that he wasn’t falling apart, how to keep the tremble out of his voice when all he wanted to do was fall apart.

Aaron was a different man. Aaron would play pretend with his son for hours on end, just to keep him happy and make him smile. He woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily as his body shook and tears streamed down his face as the monsters of his day haunted his night. He would dance with Penelope because he could never say to her.

He was a helpless romantic.

Eleanor- Ellie to her friends, and SSA Birch to local police departments- knew this first-hand.

She had first met Aaron Hotchner during the liaison programme with Kate Joyner. Kate had been unimpressed by everyone there, because the last time she’d done it, they’d all acted like they knew so much better than her. Eleanor had met Aaron first, and immediately wondered where everyone like him had been when Kate first did it.

Because Aaron was lovely. He held doors open, he listened, he smiled at everyone, and he phoned his girlfriend- not his wife, even though they’d been dating since high school and he was now twenty-eight- during every single break they had, regardless of the time difference.

Then she’d fucked up and kissed him. They had both been drunk. A case had gone shit, and she needed something good. But then he called her Haley. And she’d immediately sobered up. He had looked at her with such shame that she almost cried. For some reason, she knew his passcode. The moment he ran to the bathroom to throw up the alcohol, she unlocked it. Phoned Haley. Said that her boyfriend was going to blame himself for what had happened but it wasn’t him it was her.

And Haley… had been lovely. She’d said that she knew Aaron loved her. And that Eleanor seemed like a lovely person but she understood that need for comfort. Eleanor had  
wondered how people were still so good. She didn’t tell Aaron about the phone call. He left the next day. The programme was finished. She thought that would be the end of it.

Then she transferred over to the BAU. She hadn’t known he was Unit Chief. David Rossi did her interview. It was incredibly awkward at first. She wasn’t used to hiding from her teammates but Aaron had panicked when he first saw her and started pretending he’d never seen her. Her only option was to play along. Haley had just left him at this point.  
Kate Joyner obviously recognised her. That was a conversation she never wanted to have again. She thought she’d jeopardised both her place on the team and her dynamic. Then Kate died, Hotch lost his hearing temporarily and she was the only person that Reid would let touch him after the fiasco with Benjamin Cyrus.

She liked Spencer. He was almost like the son she never had.

It was Eleanor that had stayed behind with Aaron after Haley’s funeral and dealt with the phone calls. She told herself it was because she was trying to be a good person and repent for what she had done. Truthfully it was because she knew he was going to fall. And she didn’t want the burden of catching him to fall to the others who had already supported him through so much- Adrian Bale, Vincent Perrotta, Haley leaving.

They’d been getting to a good place. Not quite dating, but not quite friends. She knew he was watching her; there was a reason she was a profiler. He knew she still loved him, but he was grieving Haley. It wouldn’t be fair to her if he suddenly changed their whole dynamic.

But then he faked Emily’s death and it was like they were right back at square one: she would undermine everything he said because she was angry, and he was there, and it was easy to blame him. Her emotions had always been her greatest strength and her fatal flaw. 

And then he’d turned up at her apartment, soaked through from the rain, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. She’d been too shocked to close the door on him. He’d immediately started rambling about how he couldn’t live the way he was, and how he just needed to know that she trusted him because everything was falling apart and he just  
needed her.

Not knowing what else to do, she’d kissed him. It had been messy, and wet, and nowhere near as romantic as either of them liked to pretend it had been. But it had been their first actually sober kiss, so it held a special place in her heart. And after that, it was like everything just fell into place.

Which led to the present moment. She knew what day it was. She knew her present to him was still safely tucked away in the bathroom behind her pads and his spare shower gel which he wouldn’t need for another twenty days. She knew he was excited, because for once, he could guarantee that he would be home.

After his surgery, he realised that he couldn’t keep doing what he was doing because sooner or later it was going to kill him. He hadn’t wanted to place the burden of keeping everyone together on Morgan though. So Emily came back. Her and Dave split the paperwork for lead profiler, and Morgan took over as unit chief. It had been difficult for him, those first few months.

But he’d pulled through, and was now living a much more stress free life as a law professor at the local college. It meant he could go to Jack’s school events and be there for him. 

It let Jessica have more time to herself. 

It also meant he planned nice things for days like these. And Ella knew it was unfair to keep him waiting, but she just couldn’t bring herself to get up and go home, choosing instead to focus on the casefile in front of her. The bullpen was quiet: JJ had her own office and had gone home anyways, Reid had gone to see a piano concert thing- she’d tried her best to follow but had just gotten lost- and Anderson was out of town.

So instead of it being lively and loud, it was just her. And her casefile. Which she’d been looking at for the past ten minutes without any of the information going into her head.

With a groan, she slammed it shut and pushed it away.

“Shouldn’t you have gone home by now?” Dave asked, appearing at either the best or worst possible moment depending on your view, just like he always did.

“Probably. But I just- I can’t bring myself to do it,” she confessed.

Dave sighed. “You need to. Aaron will start to worry if you don’t. And we all already told him that there are no cases, so don’t even think of using the paperwork from that as an excuse.”

She sighed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you still sound like you grew up in Buckingham Palace.” He picked up the case file. “Nothing’s happened here for six months. I’m sure one night won’t hurt. Now go.”

Eleanor packed her stuff up, giving him a small smile as she closed the door behind her. It immediately faded as soon as she’d turned away from him and her stomach started to twist into knots. She didn’t know if the team knew and weren’t saying anything, or if they were actually following the no profiling rule. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know either.

When she unlocked the front door, there was a distinct lack of noise. It made her feel even worse. Hotch had obviously organised for Jack to go and stay with his grandparents because she remembered that Jessica had a date, which would’ve been awkward enough for him, and here she was, two hours late, not because she’d forgotten, but because she hadn’t wanted to go.

“Hi El,” Aaron said as she entered the living room. He was sat on the couch, reading glasses sliding down his nose as he graded papers. “Just let me write this final comment and then I’m yours.”

“Hi,” she replied, feeling uneasy.

Aaron looked up. “You’re supposed to say: I can’t wait that long and then come over and give me a kiss.”

She rolled her eyes but obeyed nonetheless, legs feeling wobbly as she sat on him, smiling when he let out a soft sound of surprise. She tilted his face so she could kiss him and for the moment where their lips met, everything was fine. Then he pulled away, and she just wanted to get away. But his hand was stroking her hip in a comforting gesture and she wasn’t ready to give that up, so instead she ran her hand through his hair.

“What’s this one about?” she asked. 

“They’re supposed to be critiquing and suggesting reforms for the law surrounding murder. I gave them a tonne of advice and access to all the relevant articles but some of them still didn’t even try and word it in a way that sounds like their own essay style,” he said, sighing.

Eleanor smiled slightly and set the paper down on the table. “I’m sorry for being late. But I’m here now. So why don’t you show me how all out you went this year?”

Aaron looked into her eyes and she was once again taken aback by how soft and gentle they were. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that he had once beaten a man to death. She tried to remove that thought from her head. It just was not the time.

“You never have to apologise for being late. I used to do your job, remember?”

She nodded. “How could I forget?”

“Do you want to change whilst I reheat dinner?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Their conversations hadn’t sounded that forced since she had first joined the BAU and had been adding sir onto almost all of her statements in an attempt to rile him up.

As she went upstairs to change into something more casual, she also took the time to wipe off her make-up and splash some water on her face. She only intended to take five minutes. But then she started staring at her reflection, trying to see whether or not her actions were as obvious as she thought they were. But then she became aware of the clock  
ticking- Aaron hated digital clocks because of the flashing numbers- and realised how long she’d been stood there for.

“I was beginning to worry,” Aaron said. A normal comment. But an invitation to tell him what was wrong.

She shrugged. “It’s our anniversary. And although I technically didn’t forget, I was late and I wanted to make that up to you, which meant going through the wardrobe and finding this dress.”

“The fact that you still say wardrobe will never fail to make me laugh,” Aaron said.

He’d made chicken and mushroom pie. Her favourite. She wanted to be sick. It was just a few hours. She could get through a few hours. Aaron was a half-decent person. He listened when people said no. Then she could go to sleep, and everything would go back to normal. Nobody would know but it wouldn’t hang over her head the same way it was  
when he was sat opposite her, staring with such adoration.

They ate in relative silence. She didn’t want to explain why she was late. She wanted to let him believe that it was purely because time had gotten away from her and that the meeting she’d had with Cruz about the last case had run over. She didn’t want to explain that she’d deliberately walked slowly so she would miss the train. She couldn’t.

“Your present is something old this year. I hope that’s okay,” Aaron said when they had both finished eating. There was a glint in his eye. One he only got when he was about to do something very romantic.

Eleanor frowned. Something old. Where had she heard that?

He got down on one knee.

She gasped.

“My Ella. You continue to love me day after day and for what reason, I don’t know. We didn’t pass on the best terms. But then you came back into my life when I didn’t even realise I needed you, in this massive explosion of passion and love and hope. You were there for me when I didn’t think I’d be able to survive. And you never once doubted me. I know that I’m far from perfect, and there are times where I get angry instead of being understand. And I know that I’ve upset you, but you helped me realise that as a couple, we don’t have to be perfect. We just have to try. I love you. I love you so much that I can’t even begin to put it into words. So I’ll put it into a question. Eleanor Birch, will you marry me?”

She knew just what marriage meant to Aaron. He’d grown up in South Virginia, where tradition was everything. Where marriage was everything one could ever hope for. She had grown up in Brighton, where people really did not give a flying fuck about any of that. It had never meant much to her, but to Aaron it meant everything.

His proposal was so much more than a proposal. It was the final sign that he’d moved on from Haley. That he truly loved her. And a part of him would always love Haley, there was no point in saying he wouldn’t, but this- this was him saying thank you, I love you, I won’t leave, I trust you, I want to see you in the morning and make you my own all at once.

“I can’t marry you,” she whispered.

The box fell from his hands. He moved back into his chair, hands folded neatly in his lap.

“Okay,” he said.

That shocked her back into awareness. “I- what? You just proposed, I said no and all you have to say is okay?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what I want to say. I want to say that Jack won’t have a problem- in fact, he has and always will be my first priority so I wouldn’t have done this without his permission- but you already know that don’t you?”

She nodded. “I do.” 

They both cringed at her choice of words.

“If it’s about changing your surname, I may have grown up with traditional views, but you don’t have to do that. Not if you don’t want to. We can combine them. We could be the Hotchner-Birch’s. Or you could just keep your own. I don’t really mind.”

“It’s not that either.”

“Jack isn’t expecting you to be his mother either. He’ll probably still call you El, just like I do.”

“It isn’t Jack.”

“That was my mother’s engagement ring. She gave it to me when I told her I wanted to propose to Haley. She said that hopefully it would bring me better luck than it had bought  
her. At the time, I hated the damn thing because it had come from my father. So I didn’t give it to Haley. Now I’m older I understand why she gave it to me. So the girl I married would always be able to have a piece of the woman that made me who I am. But if that weirds you out, we can go look for another one.”

“Would you stop being so good and kind for one fucking minute?” Ella snapped, unable to take anymore.

Aaron flinched, even after all the years that had passed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Ella ran a hand through her hair. “God, no. Please don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. It’s just- I can’t. I can’t marry you and it’s nothing you have done. It’s got nothing to do with Jack either. I love that kid. And I’m so proud of how far he’s come. But I just- I can’t.”

“You’ve told me that. Multiple times now. Just tell me why. Tell me what happened and we can work through it. Because I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And if anything happens to me, I want custody of Jack to go to you. Not the state.”

Aaron had never told her that before. They’d spoken at great lengths about children and both agreed that they didn’t want anymore. Jack was enough for both of them. And they’d talked about what would happen if for some reason, Ella had to care for Jack for extended amounts of time. But never like this.

He dropped his gaze when he saw the look on her face. “I’m sorry. You just said you don’t want to marry me, and here I am, dropping bombshells like that on you because that awful part of me wants you to feel guilty. Look, whatever you did, what happened, tell me. We can get through it.”

She hoped that he could abandon his morals long enough for her to not have to say the words. “Aaron, look at me. Please. Please, I need you to look at me.”

Tears were already forming in her eyes when he finally managed to meet her gaze.

“No,” he whispered.

He had seen that look twice in his life. Once when his mother turned to his father and asked why a young lady had phoned asking to speak to her husband. Once when Haley’s mobile had rung and she hadn’t been able to provide the reason behind the call. He knew what that look meant. He knew, and he wished he didn’t because he wasn’t sure he could handle it all over again.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I am so, so sorry and if I could take it back, I would but I can’t and all I can do is apologise and say that I regret it and I had never felt worse than in that moment.”

“Who was it? Was it someone I know?”

“God no. They would never.”

“Did they look like me?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I need to know. I need to know who this man was. I need to know why you were so willing to throw our entire relationship away for one night of pleasure. Or was it more? Has this been going on for a while? Am I just a joke to you? Is that what it is?”

“No! And it was a one-time thing, I swear. It only happened once. And if you really must know, yes. He looked like you. Are you happy now? I don’t want to have to relive that night because it was one of the worst nights of my life.”

“Of your life? I was going to marry you Eleanor. When- when even was this? And why?”

Eleanor’s emotions always got the better of her. “You want to know when? It was that case. That case where all the boys turning up dead and mutilated looked exactly like Jack. Like our son. And then the unsub got away. And I phoned you. I phoned you at least five times that night, but not once did you pick up, because you were at a faculty dinner, even though you promised me that you would always be there, no matter where you were. I needed to hear your voice telling me everything would be all right. I needed you, and you 

weren’t there.”

Aaron gripped the table tightly, all the colour in his face immediately vanishing. He remembered that night. He too regretted it. When he saw Eleanor’s first phone call, he’d started to excuse himself to answer it, knowing there could only be a few reasons for it. But then one of his colleagues had made a snide comment- one he couldn’t even remember now- and he’d put his phone on silent before tucking it away.

When Dave told him about the case because Eleanor couldn’t, he’d felt like the biggest piece of shit to ever exist. He still did. How had he fucked up so badly that Eleanor had slept with someone else?

No. That wasn’t on him. He’d screwed up, but she, and she alone, was responsible for her actions. It had been her decision to sleep with someone, not his.

“So you slept with someone else? Why not go to one of the team and tell them instead? Why did you have to sleep with someone?”

“I don’t know! I can’t explain what I did and I can’t justify it but I- you were the one that said we could move past this. You were the one that said, whatever I had done, we could work out together because you loved me. I still love you. I never stopped, not even when you went back to Haley all those years ago. We could make it work.”

Aaron laughed, but there was no humour. “No. No we can’t. Because that case was a month ago. You had a month to tell me, and you’re only telling me now because I asked you to marry me. What was your plan? Just not say anything till either I worked it out myself or you stopped feeling guilty?”

Eleanor didn’t have a response.

Aaron ran his hands through his hair, tugging it. Ella wanted to pry his hands away from it so he didn’t pull it out but that wasn’t her job anymore. It never would be again.

“I feel like such an idiot. You know, when you first kissed me, my first thought was: don’t do this. Because the first time you kissed me, you knew I had a girlfriend. And I was just as responsible because I didn’t pull away immediately, I know. But you kissed me. And in the back of my mind, I knew that there was every chance you would do the same again. I just never thought you actually would because I thought you’d grown up. I guess you haven’t.”

That was the problem with profilers, Eleanor thought to herself. They always knew exactly where to strike in order to cause the most pain. She just never thought Aaron would be the one doing it to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, because what else could she say?

Aaron shook his head. “I don’t want to hear you say that anymore. You can- I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom until you find an apartment. But once you have, I never want to see you again. I’ll spare Jack the finer details of what happened, but it’ll be his choice whether or not he carries on talking to you.”

Eleanor did not want his kindness. She wanted Aaron to make her pay. She wanted him to be angry, to hurl insults at her and tell her to get out, that he never wanted to see her again and that she would never be allowed within six feet of his son again.

But Aaron wouldn’t. He was too scared of what would happen if he lost control. He had been since Foyet. And she could mention that. She could mention every fear, every secret, every dream he’d ever shared with her.

She didn’t. She had already hurt him enough.

“I have friends not too far from here. I’ll pack enough for a week and that should be enough time to sort out something more permanent.”

If Aaron heard her, he didn’t say anything.

It only took her ten minutes to pack, which was one of the advantages of living with him. Everything had to be perfectly organised, which meant it was very easy to find things. 

When she entered the living room, he hadn’t moved. He was still staring at the ground. The ring was on the floor by the dining table, shining despite the darkness of the room.

It was rather ironic, this thing that had led to so much destruction being so beautiful.

“Goodbye Aaron,” Eleanor said, placing her keys on the coffee table.

Only when the door closed behind her for what would probably be the last time did Aaron Hotchner fall to his knees and sob, for the second woman he had loved and lost and for the mother Jack would never get to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	7. some of us grow up to catch them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day seven: sick fic ("i'm fine. you have a fever of 102, that's not fine."/tummy ache, fever/tummy rub)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thought we'd end it with hotch's most iconic quote  
> trigger warnings: canon-typical violence, depictions of a deceased child at the hands of an unsub, implied/referenced mutilation, implied/referenced child abuse, vomiting

David Rossi knew from the moment he first saw Aaron Hotchner in Seattle, slightly distressed by the dead body but raring to go and catch a killer that he was destined for something more. Something more than just a field agent, or head of department, or god forbid white collar crimes. He knew from the beginning that the kid was going to do something incredible.

The BAU was something incredible. The idea that they would be able to catch these killers, not by waiting for them to slip up and make it obvious who they were, but by looking at their crime scenes and getting in their head so they could be stopped before it even got to the screwing up stage, was something that not a lot of people believed, or had faith in.

But David Rossi did. As did Jason Gideon and Max Ryan. And with a bit of convincing, so would Aaron Hotchner.

The killer had left Seattle. Rossi and the team had to go back. But instead of going back to the precinct with Jason and Max so he could do his part in clearing up, Dave hung back and said he would go with Hotchner. His two colleagues gave him identical looks of disapproval as though they already knew what he was about to do- and who was he kidding, of course they did, they were all profilers. Hotchner’s fist clenched at the use of his last name.

Dave pretended he didn’t notice. At least not until they got in the car. But he needed to know that if this worked out, if the kid could convince his girlfriend to move across the country to Quantico, what cases would get to him the most.

“So, you don’t like being called Hotchner,” he said.

Aaron’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s not my favourite thing no. Why?”

Defensiveness.

“Just making conversation. He’s dead now, isn’t he?”

Aaron almost missed the turning. “Agent Rossi, with all due respect, please don’t profile me.”

“I’m not. It’s written very clearly in your face that you don’t like being called Hotchner. Given the fact that it’s a southern surname and you would have grown up there in the 70s, it’s more using some common sense. But I suppose there was a little bit of profiling involved.”

He sighed. “What do you want? You must have a reason to voluntarily drive back with me instead of your much more exciting colleagues.”

“They’re not that exciting, but I’m sure they’ll love to know you said that. But well done for realising that I do indeed want something. As the BAU gets taken more seriously, we’re likely to be taking on more cases. And in order to do that, we need more profilers. And I watched you out there. You have the instinct. With a bit of training and a lot of experience you may turn out as good as Gideon.”

“So you admit he’s better than you?” Aaron said, with a small smirk.

“I never said that. And you seem to be avoiding answering my question.”

“Maybe that’s because you didn’t ask one.”

“Fine. If you can get that pretty girlfriend of yours to agree, how would you like to join the BAU?”

“Haley’s my wife, actually. I don’t wear the wedding ring because it puts more of a target on my back and I want to come home safe to her. You’re putting an awful amount of trust into a rookie you met a few weeks ago.”

So somehow this kid managed to be cynical and fun at the same time. If he accepted the offer- which of course he would, who wouldn’t- everyone would be kept on their toes. It would make a change though. Aaron had witnessed and experienced terrible things, there was no doubt about that, but he still wasn’t as damaged or tarnished by life as the rest of them were.

“I just have a feeling. So, what do you say?”

“I’ll talk to Haley about it.”

They had arrived back at the precinct now. Dave got out, leaving Aaron to think things over as he drove back to the field office, probably to complete his own paperwork.

“Good man. And Aaron?”

Aaron turned to face him, eyes wide.

“Hotch is a good nickname.”

He grinned. “It is.”

Six months later, Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, who immediately after being introduced would say: please call me Hotch because southern manners never could be truly unlearnt,   
joined the BAU. Two weeks after that happened, the team met his wife- not girlfriend- Haley for the first time. They’d walked away with the same opinions.

Well. Max Ryan didn’t really have an opinion on her either way. He didn’t think she was amazing as Aaron did, but then, nobody did. It was why the two of them were married.   
Jason and Dave just didn’t like her. Neither could quite place what it was about her, but there was something that just didn’t sit right with them. However, Aaron properly loosened up when he was with her, and he was a grown adult that could make his own decisions and so they had to accept his choice of spouse. Even if they didn’t completely approve.

And Aaron knew they didn’t. They thought they were being subtle, but apparently they weren’t. And it must have been bad because he was the one that had first implemented the no inter-team profiling rule. If they wanted to be annoying, they would have profiled that. But that was the only time Dave had ever seen the kid angry at someone other than the police or an unsub.

So after meeting Haley for the first time, there was a small wedge between the various team members. They did their best to remain civil, but Dave could tell Hotch was hurt by his disapproval. He just didn’t know how to tell the man he was sorry and was probably just a bitter man going through a second divorce- he was realistically only one of those things but Aaron didn’t need to know that- who was being cynical in a way that wouldn’t embarrass him. Usually when he needed to apologise, it involved flowers and chocolate.

He doubted Aaron would appreciate that. If anything, he would throw them both away because of how embarrassed the whole thing would make him. So Dave needed to be smarter than that. He needed to apologise in a simpler way. One that would be more genuine. 

He wanted to just say the words. But Aaron was avoiding them all.

Until he had his real case. For the month that he’d been there, nothing urgent had needed their attention. It had all been casefiles and paperwork. But then they got the phone call.   
They were being summoned to New York. It was a decent drive. 

“Hotch, you’re with me,” Dave said.

Hotch looked up. Something about him was different, but what, he had no idea. His eyes were slightly glazed and he didn’t seem fully there, as when he heard that he was going to have to spend roughly five hours in close proximity to the one person he’d spent three weeks not interacting with- which for two people in the same team who had a small area to work with, was quite something- he just nodded and grabbed his phone before quickly leaving, presumably to call Haley.

He didn’t say a word as he was driving. Rossi kept a careful eye on him, wanting to know why he was still wearing his stupid jacket when he looked about ready to pass out. His face was flushed, his eyes slightly unfocused and a large part of him just wanted to make him pull over and explain himself. The larger part of him knew that would just worsen the situation.

“There’s a gas station right there. We can switch over,” he said.

“I’m good,” Aaron replied. He looked pale now.

“Agent Hotchner, that was a command,” Rossi said.

Hotch pulled into the gas station without another word but refused to look at Rossi when he got into the driver’s seat, having dashed inside to get some water, light snacks and a thermometer. Instead he stared out the window, looking every bit the angst-ridden teen Rossi knew he had been, and probably still was.

“Open your mouth,” Rossi said, once the doors to the car were locked and they were driving again.

That made Hotch turn around. He looked even worse than before, his glare looking more desperate than anything else. 

“Excuse me?” Hotch said. 

Rossi grinned at him, before holding up the thermometer, keeping one eye on the road so he didn’t kill them both. “Either you do it yourself, or I will. Your decision.”

Hotch cleared his throat and opened his mouth, probably to make another smart comment, or express his utter disgust at being treated like a petulant child. Rossi used that moment to shove the thermometer and press on, Hotch unable to do much more than make a muffled sound of protest. He folded his arms over his chest, but with the thermometer preventing his speech, it did little to make him seem scary.

Rossi took the time to actually observe him. 

“You look like shit.”

“I’m fine.”

The thermometer beeped. Rossi, one hand still on the wheel, took it from Aaron’s mouth before he could react.

“You have a fever of 102. That’s not fine.”

“I’m fine. You know who’s not fine? The families of those three dead boys in New York. They’re not fine. And more people are going to get hurt if you keep worrying about me, so   
just stop it!” Aaron’s voice was fading. He coughed, more than a few times.

Dave sighed. This kid was their family now, whether they wanted him to be or not. “Aaron. You’re allowed to have limits. Nobody is going to think any less of you.” He knew he was already on thin ice, but he needed Aaron to know. “Nobody is going to punish you either.”

Hotch curled into himself. “Don’t profile me.”

Rossi, despite everything, smiled. Aaron may not have admitted he was unwell, but he hadn’t explicitly denied it again. And he was making small jokes. Perhaps they were getting somewhere. “I’m not. I just wanted you to know that if you need to sit out at any point-”

The moment was ruined.

“Agent Rossi, I will be fine, so please don’t patronise me.”

His hair was a mess. Despite how well put together he always looked, his hair was a mess. It showed just how young he was. That was Dave focused on. He couldn’t focus on the ache in his chest. He didn’t get attached to people. Especially not agents that just reduced his life expectancy.

They drove the rest of the way in complete silence that was only ever interrupted by Aaron coughing or sniffling. By the time they reached New York, it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. When they got out the car, Hotch stumbled slightly. Rossi wanted to steady him, but Hotch still seemed volatile.

“What happened?” Max asked, gesturing to Hotch when Rossi walked over.

“He’s unwell. Won’t admit it. Same old.” Only it wasn’t, because whenever somebody else was unwilling to admit they were unwell it was because they didn’t want to be stuck at home or prevented from doing something. Aaron’s reasons seemed much ingrained, much more serious.

Gideon sighed. “If he’s that unwell he should really just go straight to the hotel.”

“You can be the one to tell him that,” Rossi said.

“Let him be. He’ll be fine,” Max said, disinterested.

Rossi wasn’t convinced, but then Aaron walked over, looking paler than ever. He seemed more balanced, but he had one hand pressed to his stomach. Dave wanted to do something, but he didn’t know what. And he wasn’t about to risk arguing with him in front of the police officers.

“Let’s go then,” Rossi said, faking some semblance of brightness, refusing to look at Gideon, who probably just looked confused.

“Thank you so much for coming. Officers, these are SSAs Rossi, Ryan, Gideon and- is it Agent Hotchner?”

Hotch nodded, not even bothering to correct them. Rossi gave him another concerned look. Aaron was still turned away from him.

“It never gets easier, no matter how many years you do the job for. And no matter how many years you do this for, the evil nature of people always manages to shock you,” the detective said, sighing.

“It’s fine, Detective. Shall we?” Ryan said.

The detective got his impatience and led the way.

David Rossi had seen terrible things in his life. He had seen more death, destruction and horror than most people could dream of. He had seen the life leave the body of his friends as death came for them. He had watched the hope faded from desperate parents as the knowledge that their child was never coming home finally sunk in. He’d stood by as killers got away with a smirk on their face and a glint in their eyes because of some stupid technicality.

But having to see a crime scene involving an innocent child… that was horrific. And if he could, if he was granted one wish it would be for that to never happen to anyone ever again. He resisted the urge to hit something, to outwardly react. The public could not see them fall apart. They just couldn’t. Instead he crept forward, trying to ignore the horror before him.

Gideon and Ryan seemed saddened. But then, they had never been as impacted by things as the rest of them were. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Hotch was talking to someone. The mother. He clasped her hands, stared into her eyes and said something that made her smile slightly before coming over. He was like a ghost now, one hand putting pressure on his stomach. Rossi couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, which wasn’t good. But there was something else bugging him.

He realised too late.

Aaron hadn’t been to a crime scene before. Not one like this. Where the pain and the horror and the destruction was obvious. Where the depravity of human nature could be seen, clear as day. He had seen the photos, and he’d seen the aftermath, once the forensic team had taken the most despicable parts away for analysis.

“Hotch!” he shouted.

But it was too late. He’d already come over.

He was frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off the body, but wanting nothing more than to get as far from as it as was humanly possible. His hands were trembling- his entire body was shaking- and he was shaking his head, the word no wordlessly leaving his mouth as tears streamed down his face. Dave wanted to run over and tell him everything was okay, but Hotch had never gotten this emotional on a case. He had no idea what to do.

And then he keeled over, throwing up on the grass, groaning as he pressed a hand to his stomach.

The detective gave him a sympathetic look. “Please don’t let him be too mortified. It happens to everyone.”

Hotch had managed to pull himself to his feet and had vanished off somewhere. The elder profilers exchanged looks. Max Ryan looked disgusted-he should be able to handle a crime scene, after everything he had already seen and done. Jason Gideon looked confused- Hotch had been a prosecutor before this, surely, he knew what to expect.

Dave sighed, then walked away. Max called out for him, but he ignored it. They didn’t see to have any problem with profiling each other and this was probably the most obvious thing he’d done in a while.

He almost didn’t see Aaron at first. But the precinct cars were white, so when he walked past the second time, the small patch of black sticking up made it rather obvious.

“There are better places to rest than here,” he said, by way of greeting.

“Just leave me alone and don’t make jokes right now. I know I’ve disappointed everyone, and you must all think I’m incapable of doing this. I’ll have my resignation on Gideon’s desk when we get back. But I can’t face the rest of them. Not like this.”

Dave had never seen Aaron so weak. His knees were pulled up to his chest, head against the car door. He looked so small, so young and terrified as to what was going to happen next. With a sigh, and well aware his suit was never going to recover, he sat next to Aaron, who flinched away.

“Hey, it’s okay. You haven’t disappointed anyone. I think you’re more than capable and would hate to see you go. It was an overwhelming crime scene, that’s all. It was your first time at one as well. And I would hate to see you resign.”

Aaron turned towards him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. You’re unwell as well. Most people would’ve turned around or not gotten involved. You fought through that and showed more determination than a lot of the people   
I’ve met. You’re a good agent Aaron. An amazing profiler. You can lose it every once in a while. Just don’t do it in public.”

“Nobody else seems to lose it,” Aaron said.

“Maybe we should. Lord knows I want to.”

“He looked like my brother.”

It was such a sudden confession that for a moment Dave didn’t understand. When he did, he made a soft noise. “Oh Aaron,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Hotch’s shoulders, not even caring about the germs.

Hotch was falling apart in his arms and that terrified him, but he needed to be strong, if only until Hotch stopped sobbing. 

“He never touched my little brother. Not once. I made sure of that. But when I saw- I couldn’t help it. All I could see was him and what could have happened.”

Dave shushed him. “But it didn’t. It didn’t and you’re both here. He’s not. It’s all going to be okay.”

Aaron groaned. “My stomach-”

Dave rubbed it gently. “My mother used to do this to me whenever I had a stomach-ache. I think it’s more psychological, but it may help. However, you also have a temperature and a cough, so I’m sending you back to the hotel. No arguing.”

Hotch shook his head. “I wasn’t about to.”

“Oh, I have a bottle of water for you as well,” he said, belatedly handing it to him.

Hotch smiled and took a few cautious sips. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“It’s okay. Are you good to stand?”

Aaron nodded, and although he was a bit shaky, Dave trusted that he would make it back to the hotel. Still, he knew what the ache in his chest was, and he wasn’t going to shy away from it anymore. If he did, Hotch wouldn’t go home safely to the girl he loved. And who Dave was beginning to see in a new light, now that other things had clicked.

Roughly ten years later, Spencer Reid was sick at his first crime scene. But when Aaron Hotchner went to help him the same way David Rossi had helped him, he saw Jason Gideon comforting the young agent- still so young that Hotch couldn’t help but view him as a kid. 

Bile started to rise in his throat. He didn’t want to be bitter. It wasn’t fair to Reid because it wasn’t his fault. But he missed Dave. He missed having someone to talk to, someone to cry to, someone to be a little more vulnerable with. He missed Dave, and he was starting to realise that Jason Gideon would always love Spencer Reid more than him.

And he would always love the two of them more than they knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's two days late, but it's here! and thus, morehotchcontent is over. it's been great!

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and commments are my fuel!  
> if you want to read my other drabbles, go to my tumblr: yourlocalheartbreaker!


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